


Of Elves and Men

by AidraMyrdin



Series: Of Elves and Men, Royals, and Parents [1]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: ALL OCs THERE FOR PLOT ADVANCEMENT, Action, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bisexual Gwen, Canon Era, Dorks in Love, Elf Merlin (Merlin), Elves, Everybody Lives, Except for the Baddies, F/F, F/M, Happy Ending, I don't know who Lancelot should end up with help, Light Angst, Long, M/M, Magic, Merlin is a Little Shit (Merlin), Merthur - Freeform, Morgana Is A Sword Lesbian, Prince Merlin (Merlin), Royalty, Secret Identity, Slow Burn, Sword Fights (not a euphemism), Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-08
Updated: 2019-11-13
Packaged: 2019-11-13 15:55:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 26,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18034664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AidraMyrdin/pseuds/AidraMyrdin
Summary: Emrys Merlin, an illegitimate half-elf prince, hidden from the world, goes to Camelot to seek his fortune.After all, no young man, no matter how great, can know his destiny.





	1. Chapter 1

_Iam, incipimus._

_Now, we begin._

Emrys had been born special, as his mother said. His father abandoned them before he was born, his ears and eyes looked different from the rest of the village, and he could do mysterious things. His mother told him not to worry, but also to be careful: the other children would be jealous of his gifts and strange features, and that would make it hard for him to make friends.

Emrys was older now; he knew the real reason why he had to hide his ears behind weird prosthetics and hide his gifts behind closed doors. The people of Ealdor, just like everywhere else, hated magic and everyone who practiced it. Even if they were a young boy who knew no better.

To come to the present, the youth was strolling through the forest. This was his happy place- a place where he could be alone and do magic openly. He began whistling a short ditty as he walked. Some song about lavender and love- the whimsy almost reminded him of the tickling feeling of small magics.

He was suddenly pulled out of his musings by his mother's voice. “Merlin!” She called him that anywhere there could be people listening; Emrys was too Elven to be heard by anyone. “Merlin, you need to leave soon!”

Jolting to a stop, Emrys registered what time it must be. He had to get on his way or he wouldn't make it to Camelot by nightfall, even with magical speed.

When he had turned fifteen, his magic had become too powerful to manage without practice, so his mother had smuggled him some illicit magic books. He had much to learn, but at least he was controlled now.

Hunith embraced her son when he arrived before leading him back to the cottage they had shared since his birth. Once they were inside, it was once again safe to speak openly.

“Emrys, you must remember to keep your powers a secret. People here would shun you, but those in Camelot will kill you if they ever find out. Find Gaius and give him this letter.”

Handing him the letter, she kissed him on the cheek and led him out the door. “I love you, Emrys. Return home safe.”

“I love you too, Mother. I'll come visit as soon as I can.”

Shouldering his pack and adjusting his fake ears, Emrys Merlin set out to Camelot and his destiny.

_Unum completum._

_One complete._


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I suppose we're really and truly starting our adventure now.

_ Hoc, Emrys mortem videt et Gaio congreditur. _

_ In this, Emrys sees a death and meets Gaius. _

 

Loud. Camelot was very, very loud. Despite the coverings on his ears, Emrys felt as though he was being deafened. He had never hated super sensitive elf ears more than he did in that moment. He was being shoved this way and that; the crowd was too thick and loud- he could hardly think.

 

Suddenly, the blare of trumpets cut through the clamor of the city. The crowd was flowing solidly in one direction now, and Emrys was swept along.

 

_ Unfortunate _ , he thought,  _ maybe he could have escaped the rush and found Gaius. _

 

His mind was soon occupied by other things.

 

The crowd came to a rolling stop around a central platform, at which a chopping block and axe were displayed. Suddenly, a voice rang out over the crowd.

 

“Good people of Camelot! Oftentimes, we have the execution of a sorcerer on this very stage. Today, however, is a special day. This is the same day that, twenty years ago, the Great Dragon was imprisoned beneath our great citadel. To honor that, we bring you a different spectacle.

 

As you know, elves are creatures of magic-” Hearing this, Emrys gasped, realizing what was coming. “And they pose a great threat to our society. With their immortal blood and heathen magic, they scorn fair Camelot and her people! Today, I bring before you Calynthia, an elf enchantress.”

 

At his words, a pair of guards dragged a young elf onto the stage. Her blonde hair was incredibly messy, and her bright blue eyes, so similar to Emrys's own, were full of fear. The tips of her pointed ears stood out through her hair. 

 

“Calynthia, you claimed yourself to be a healer. Using magic, you brewed potions that cured the ills you claimed, but also brought your victims under your thrall. We also have reason to believe that  _ you _ were the cause of whatever ailment the person originally suffered.”

 

The elf girl was weeping now, and Emrys felt his heart twist. She wasn't much older than him; was this what awaited him in a year or two?

 

“P-Please!” she was trying to say through tears, “I didn't do anything! I cured them using magic, but I didn't cause the sickness! No potion can cure an illness and control a person at the same time!”

 

Sadly, her words fell on deaf ears. The king raised his hand, and the girl was forced to her knees. Her eyes searched the crowd, finding those of Emrys in the last moment. Seeing one of her own, a small, graceful smile crossed her lips. When the king’s hand fell a moment later, her smile remained, if her head didn’t. 

 

The crowd all gasped, as if they hadn’t known what was coming. A shriek rose above the crowd, followed by an angry tirade, but Emrys hardly heard. He felt sick to his stomach. He had never seen a death before, and he knew he never wanted to see another. Worse still, he could feel his magic rising up in response to her death, responding to his fear and horror. 

 

He turned and pushed his way through the crowd. He followed the signs, eventually finding the court physician’s office. The young man opened the door, poked his head in, and then entered the room when he discovered that no one seemed to be home.

 

Meandering through the room, he examined ritual masks, herbs, bones, and various tonics. Books covered every surface not covered in supplies, paper lying out all over. 

 

“Gaius?” Emrys called.

 

His gaze drifted upwards, finding the man up on the next level of the room. He was obviously trying to find something. Perhaps he had an urgent medical issue? That would explain the mess all over, at least.

 

Emrys decided to try again. “Hello? Gaius, is that you?”

 

He did, in fact, gain Gaius’ attention this time. This did more harm than good, though. The old man turned around abruptly, stumbled over something, and broke through the banister. Emrys could feel his magic reaching out instinctively, slowing time down and bringing the corner bed over.

 

It would seem as though his cover was already blown. 

 

Gaius fell onto the bed with an audible  _ whump _ . Standing up, he approached Emrys. “What was that?” he demanded. Emrys raised his hands, and stepped back slightly. 

 

“I- I don’t know! I didn’t do anything- I swear!”

 

The old man looked at him in a way that screamed  _ don’t give me that.  _ “I know what it was, I just want to know where you learnt it!”

 

“No- I swear I didn’t do that! And I’ve certainly never learnt it!”

 

“Ah yes, so beds just move on their own, do they? Don’t worry; I won’t tell anyone. Now, would you care to tell me what you’re doing here?” 

 

Remembering the letter his mother gave him, Emrys fished the paper out of his bag. “Uhh… here.”

 

“I don’t have my glasses on; could you please just tell me who you are?”

 

“I’m Merlin.” 

 

“Merlin? Hunith’s son? But- but you’re not supposed to be here until Wednesday!”

 

Emrys was slightly worried at this point- was this man quite alright? “It  _ is  _ Wednesday, sir.” At this, the old man looked slightly embarrassed.

 

“Ah… I apologize. May I ask, where  _ did  _ you learn to do that magic? It seemed instinctual! It must have taken a great deal of training to do that.”

 

How was he going to explain this? Even if Gaius found out about his true species later, even elves weren’t born with magic. Emrys was simply an oddity. “Honestly? I’ve been able to do it since I was born. I’ve been moving objects larger than that before I could talk. When I got older, it got more powerful, so I learnt some spells to channel it better. It still comes with no words when I really need it, though.”

 

Gaius looked intrigued. “Well, is there anything else you’d like to tell me? I’ll be housing you, and you can work as my assistant until you can find a job of your own. I hope that, since you will be hiding your true nature when you’re outside, you can feel like you’re safe in here.”

 

Emrys smiled at the old man, deciding that they were definitely going to become friends. However, his species needed to be kept an absolute secret. “Not that I can think of, no.”

 

“Alright. Remember, if any of this is ever discovered, you'd be in serious trouble.”

 

Emrys thought back to the scene in the square barely ten minutes ago. “Yeah… I would be.”

 

_ Dua completa _

_ Two complete _


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> By the way, this story will be veeeerrrryyyyyy slow burn. Enjoy!

_ Hoc, princeps Arthur procax est. _

_ In this, prince Arthur is rude. _

 

Emrys found himself settling decently into life at Camelot. Granted, he’d only been there five days, but all the people he’d met had, despite their magic hating nature, been kind. Gaius had him running around the town delivering tonics and gathering herbs, which was strenuous but fun work. Today, the man had decided that his assistant hadn’t explored the town enough, and sent him out.

 

Strolling through craft stalls, Emrys ran his hands over colorful fabrics, stared at a lovely display of pastries, and tried to track down where the scent of an excellent roast was coming from. Camelot was bustling, preparing for the holiday. Merchants were peddling their finest, hoping to seize the eye of wandering nobles with expensive tastes. Emrys was no royal, but he did certainly enjoy the smell of that roast deer!

 

He was distracted from the prospect of buying a new neckerchief by the sound of yelling. Wandering over, he spied a group of well dressed men, probably a few years older than himself, bullying another boy. From his shabby clothes, Emrys assumed he was one of their servants. 

 

The ringleader of the bullying group was throwing daggers at a shield the servant was holding on his back. The poor boy was clearly terrified and mortified, but onlookers made no fuss. In fact, it seemed that they were enjoying the entertainment.

 

When the shield fell and rolled towards him, Emrys saw his chance. He placed his foot on the shield. The servant boy, now unable to be used as a target, escaped. “You’ve had your fun, my friend. Now let him be.”

 

The ringleader, a roguish man with blond hair, swaggered over to the elf. “Do I know you?”

 

“I don't think so-”

 

“And yet you called me friend.” Ah, so he was one of those fellows. The kind that twisted your words right back at you, yet never used that intelligence for anything other than the torment of others.

 

“That was my mistake. I could never be friends with such a prat.”

 

“Nor I such an idiot. What is your name?” As he was talking, the scallywag's cronies began to group up behind him. The crowd was looking on with some kind of amused horror, but Emrys didn't see the worry. He was just another thug.

 

“I'm Merlin.”

 

“Now tell me, Merlin, do you know how to walk on your knees?”

 

Emrys recognized this now; he was being baited. “I wouldn't.”

 

“Oh really?” The blonde chuckled, and his friends guffawed behind him. “And just what would you do?”

 

Emrys went for a roundabout punch, but the blonde was moving to block it almost before he could think. Almost. He was fast, for a human, but certainly not for an elf. Emrys's fist drew back, and his other hand crashed into his enemy's solar plexus. 

 

When the blonde prat doubled over gasping for breath, Emrys realized he might have punched a little hard. And when the prat's friends surrounded him and forced him to his knees, he realized that it might have been a bad idea to attack someone with reinforcements. Finally, when the prat informed him of his name, Emrys realized that he really,  _ really _ shouldn't have gotten into this fight.

 

_ Tria completa _

_ Three complete  _

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A double update! Surprising.  
> What's not surprising- how much Craig and Janet saved when they switched to Geico.

_ Carcere liberatum, amicus factus est. _

_ Having been freed from prison, a friend is made. _

 

Emrys spent the night in a prison cell. To his credit, he was used to sleeping on the floor, and ended up getting a decent night's sleep. That was, until…

 

“ _ Merlin… Merlin…”  _ A quiet, deep voice seemed to echo from the ground beneath him, calling his second name. Emrys turned over, pressing his ear to the ground. It certainly seemed to be coming from the ground.

 

He wasn't able to hear anything more though, because a new voice was heard.

 

“Merlin! You spend five days here, and end up in prison for attacking the crown prince!” His voice dropped in volume, wary of the guards. “You should be working to keep out of trouble, what with your condition.”

 

Emrys bowed his head, embarrassed at his mentor's scolding. “Sorry, Gaius…”

 

A hand landed on his head. “I was worried about you, you stupid boy! Fortunately, Prince Arthur wasn't harmed by your fist, so I was able to get you released.”

 

“Really?! Fantastic!”

 

“There is a small price to pay…” The old man laughed to himself at his ward's confusion.

  
  


The third tomato splashed into Emrys's face, and he decided that he was never going to fight someone again. Ugh, some of it got in his mouth! His young tormentors bounced around, chucking rotten fruits and vegetables at the captive sorcerer. One of the kids reeled his arm back, holding a hard looking potato.

 

He braced himself for the hit, but it never came. In fact, it seemed that the world stopped for a second. The onlookers were silent, and the children had all put down their foods and stepped back.

 

Emrys opened his eyes again to find the blond prat, Arthur, leaning against the stocks. He looked insanely out of place: his brightly colored clothes were clean; his sword dangled at his hip, perfectly polished. However, he managed to look at ease. 

 

“Hello again, Merlin.”

 

Emrys turned his head toward the prince the best he could. “You've come to get a shot in, huh? Need to get some anger out after losing to a commoner?”

 

“That's not what I'm here for,” Arthur scoffed. “Although, I do want to know what possessed you to actually attempt to hurt me. I am the prince, you know.”

 

“Look, I already knew you were a prat. I just didn't know that you were a royal one.”

 

At that remark, Arthur let out a small chuckle. “You're pretty funny. However, I've digressed. I'd like to extend an offer of employment. You'd be working as a bodyguard and a manservant.”

 

“Really?” Emrys was incredulous. “To whom?”

 

“Well, to me, of course! You seem to be a half-tolerable person, and anyone can do basic chores. More importantly, you managed to land a hit on me, a solid one at that. I've been trained to kill since birth.”

 

Emrys laughed, coming up with a fun retort. “And how long have you been training to be a prat?”

 

“You can't talk to me like that!” Arthur looked indignant. 

 

Mockingly bowing his head, Emrys amended his statement. “My apologies… how long have you been training to be a prat, my lord?”

 

Letting out a loud laugh, Arthur made up his mind. “Then it's decided! Report to my chambers next thing tomorrow.” He then turned and walked off, cueing the children to resume their pelting of the captive warlock.

 

How did Emrys keep getting himself into these messes?

 

_ Quattuor completum _

_ Four complete _


	5. Chapter 5

_ Hoc, dies primus occurat. _

_ In this, the first day occurs. _

 

_ Merlin… Merlin… Merlin, I'm waiting, young warlock… Merlin… _

 

The voice woke Emrys up at the crack of dawn, and he was too irritated at being woken to care about it. He tried to shove his head under the pillow, but it was a fruitless attempt. Gaius appeared at the door a moment later, calling for him to get up.

 

“Merlin, it's your first day! You can't be late.”

 

Knowing he would never get back to sleep now that Gaius and the voice were on his case, Emrys pushed himself out of bed. (He slept with his ears on.) He pulled on his blue shirt, fastened his belt, grabbed the sandwich out of Gaius’ hand, and went out the door.

 

The morning was lovely; the courtyard was nearly empty as Emrys transversed it on the way to the prince's quarters. The silence was music to his ears.

 

He was humming the lavender song again as he entered Arthur's room. The prince wasn't anywhere to be seen, but there was a large lump under the covers. Was this part of Emrys's job? Was he to wake the prince?

 

Steeling his resolve, he went to the window and drew back the curtain. Early morning sunlight flooded in, and the lump on the bed groaned. 

 

“Rise and shine!” Emrys called, fastening the drapes. “How are you today, sire?” 

 

Was that what he was supposed to call him? Maybe my lord? Your Highness? Emrys had no idea.

 

Arthur grumbled a response, covering his head with the blanket. Emrys, not taking no for an answer, pulled the cover back down.

Only to reel back, blushing.

 

The prince slept with no shirt on- noted. 

 

Not noticing his new servant's flustered state, Arthur rolled out of bed and stretched. “I'm assuming you're here because I told you to?”

 

“Erm… yes, sire.”

 

“Alright, so where's my breakfast?”

 

Emrys was confused. How could the prince expect him to have his breakfast with him- he'd just gotten out of bed himself!

 

Arthur read the silence correctly. “Every morning, at exactly eight, you will arrive here with my breakfast. You will then help me get dressed. I train alone in the morning of every other day, and in the days in between I train in the afternoon with the knights. You will be responsible for helping me put on my armour, carrying and cleaning my supplies, and polishing my armour. You will be trained in the afternoon with the knights, so you will also need to care for your own armour and be prepared for each session.

 

“You will wash my clothes, draw my baths, and bring me my meals. You will tidy my room every night, washing the floors every other day. If it rains, you will wash the floors whatever the day. When I tell you, you will muck out my stables. The rest of your time can be used how you please.”

 

Hearing the litany of chores, Emrys silently groaned. What rest of his time? He would be doing this work day in and day out.

 

“Well what are you waiting for?” Arthur exclaimed. “Go get my breakfast!”

 

And so began Emrys's first days as Merlin, Arthur's manservant.

 

_ Quinque completum _

_ Five complete _

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay so this is a note for elves:  
> Elves determine each other by their eye colour. The lighter the eye, the more powerful the elf. The eyes can be any colour technically, but the most common are blue and green. They also glow slightly in the dark (hardly visible but it's a manifestation of their magic).
> 
> This will be important.

_ Hoc, Helena in Camelot venit, et tribulationes incipiunt.  _

_ In this, Helena arrives in Camelot, and troubles begin. _

 

Emrys had some trouble settling into his new style of life as Arthur's servant. Every day, he woke before dawn to do chores, and flopped down exhausted at the end of each day, only to rouse himself with the reminder of some other chore.

 

For training as Arthur's bodyguard, he hadn't known how to put on even his armour at first, much less Arthur's. An irritated Arthur had sent him to Guinevere, the lady Morgana's maidservant. She was an incredibly friendly (and beautiful) girl, who helped Emrys catch onto the ins and outs of armour quickly. The next day, when he had managed to get Arthur's entire ensemble on in under two minutes, the royal had been surprised, and made a comment on how Emrys “wasn't a complete idiot after all.” The new knowledge did no help when Emrys started training with the knights though; the man constantly found himself knocked down. Arthur soon found that ‘Merlin's’ prowess came from speed, not strength. He had then been plunged into a arduous program focusing on finesse weapons, agility, and speed. Every day when he finally got to bed, his muscles would be protesting at every move he made.

 

Worse still, that  _ damn  _ voice wouldn't let him get any sleep. At this point, it was waking him in the middle of the night- every night. The lack of sleep was getting to him; Emrys could swear he heard it during the daytime too.

 

The warlock finished wiping Arthur's floor, and made up his mind. Tonight he was going to find out where the voice was coming from, and then he was  _ finally _ going to get some sleep. 

 

At that moment, Arthur barged into the room, calling for his servant. “ _ Mer _ lin! What did I tell you about today?”

 

Emrys looked up, trying to remember. He was too tired. “Erm… I don't recall, sire.”

 

“What am I going to do with you, you idiot?! The Lady Helen is arriving today, and she needs a servant to carry her things. You will be waiting with the rest of the welcome party, so get tidied up and come on!”

 

“Y-yes sire,” Emrys stammered, standing up. “I'll be right with you.”

 

He stood up and brushed off his pants. Running a quick hand through his hair, he walked with Arthur to the entrance of the castle.

  
  


Fortunately for Emrys, the Lady Helen hadn't arrived yet. A shock went through his body, followed by a shiver, when he saw the members of the group waiting on the steps of Camelot.

 

King Uther of Camelot stood at the front of the party. He turned around when the two approached, welcoming Arthur with a friendly hand clasp.

 

“Glad to see you showed up after all, Arthur,” he said. Contrary to the version of the king he had seen before, Emrys thought he looked somewhat friendly. At least, he didn't look like a deranged murderer who had sentenced thousands to death.

 

Arthur took a stand next to his father, and Emrys stood a respectful distance behind. Next to him was Guinevere, who was standing behind her mistress on Uther's other side. The two began to talk as they waited; the royals were talking together and paid the two servants no mind.

 

“So,” Guinevere started, “Finally learnt how to put on armour?”

 

Emrys snorted, shaking his head. “Well enough. The big trick is not getting impaled anyway.”

 

She laughed. “I'm not surprised; you're not like your prince up there.”

 

“What's that supposed to mean?”

 

“You don't look like one of those big, muscly kind of fellows.” Emrys looked at her, faking offense.

 

“No- I'm sure you're stronger than you look! It's just… Arthur's one of those rough, tough, save-the-world kind of men, and you don't look like that.”

 

He grinned at her, and whispered out of the corner of his mouth, “I'm in disguise.”

 

She laughed loudly. “You're very funny, Merlin.”

 

Their bonding was interrupted by the sudden arrival of multiple horses. In the middle of the party was a dark-haired woman who Emrys assumed to be the Lady Helen.

 

Uther stepped forward to welcome her. “Lady Helen, I can't tell you what a pleasure it is to have you with us. I trust your journey was tolerable?”

 

“Yes, it was wonderful.” Helena smiled at the king, making a slight curtsy to him. 

 

Uther gestured over his shoulder, and Enrys took that as his cue. He walked forward, eyes on the ground. 

 

“Merlin will take your things to your room for you,” the king informed. “He is Arthur's manservant, but he will be at your disposal as well.”

 

The lady smiled to Emrys before thanking Uther for his hospitality. Emrys took the trunk from the hands of one of the guards, and made his way to the room Arthur had pointed out on the way there. With every step, the trunk seemed to get heavier and heavier. Emrys thanked his lucky stars that the lady's room was near the front of the castle.

 

He entered the room and plunked the case down on the floor. His arms couldn't take it anymore! He shook them out and lifted it again, planning to move it to the side of the bed. However, something fell out of the bottom when he picked it up. 

 

He carried the trunk to the bed and set it down before inspecting the book. It was plainly bound in leather, with no suspicious markings. However, it was bound with an enormous lock.

 

Emrys knew himself to be a ridiculously curious person. Back in Ealdor, he had occasionally gotten into trouble for following suspicious individuals around.

 

Of course, he had to open the book. 

 

Emrys checked the door for any potential witnesses, going so far as to sweep the area with magic. Assured that no one was watching, he muttered a basic unlocking spell, and watched as the lock popped open. 

 

He opened the book, only to almost drop it in shock. Every inch was covered in spell formulas and potions, and the writing was oh so recognizable. The entire book was written in Elvish, a language only readable by those who possessed Elven blood. Did that mean that Lady Helen was a-

 

Footsteps echoed down the corridor, and Emrys quickly closed the book and relocked it. Unable to return it to the bottom of the trunk in such short notice, he decided just to play the dumb servant card.

 

When Lady Helen arrived in her chambers a moment later, Emrys held the book out to her.  _ Please,  _ he prayed _ , let this work.  _

 

“I’m so sorry, my lady, the book fell out of the trunk. I didn’t want to put it back in because that would be rude, so I figured I would just-” He purposely let himself ramble- it would help reinforce the image of a foolish servant. He kept his eyes on the ground, of course. If the lady was an elf, she would recognize his eyes, and even if she wasn't, she'd have his head for making eye contact.

 

His ruse worked. Lady Helen smiled at him, took the book, and dismissed it. “There’s been no harm done, Merlin. I must thank you for not attempting to open it; a lady’s diary is a private thing.”

 

Emrys cast an embarrassed look over his features. “I’m so sorry! If I had known it was your diary, I never would have even touched it! I have chores to do, so may I be dismissed, my lady?”

 

She nodded and waved him away. On his way out, he glanced back to see her covering the mirror with a blanket.  _ Strange. _

 

_ Sex completus _

_ Six complete _


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> By the way, in Arthurian canon, Merlin's full name is Emrys Merlin Ambrosius, so that's where I got the name from lol

_ Hoc, Helen Emryem recognoscit. _

_ In this, Helen recognizes Emrys. _

 

Thanks to Lady Helen's arrival, Emrys had a smaller amount of chores to do that day. Arthur had forgone training to show her around the palace, so armour cleaning was off the docket. Emrys was almost limp with relief when he flopped onto his bed that night- he hadn't been in bed so early since he started work.

 

However, he wasn't going to go to sleep just yet. It was time to figure out where that voice was coming from.

 

Opening the small compartment under his bed, Emrys retrieved the two magic books that he had brought with him to Camelot. They were small, unassuming, leather bound journals, marked only by small impressions of flowers on their covers. They were the only books he hadn't completely absorbed yet. 

 

He opened the first one, a book on Elven illusion magic. It was a delicate art, very unreliable and hardly ever useful. Emrys loved it though; he was able to conjure images of anything out of thin air. Sure they were only decorative, but they were beautiful.

 

However, the book’s looping writing only reminded him of Lady Helen’s book. With his mind so distracted, Emrys could hardly focus on practice. He shook his head and slapped his forehead a couple of times, finding he could think well enough after.

 

He settled on a simple minor illusion first; it would make a small animal appear (if he did it right). He practiced saying a couple times, and then held a hand out and whispered the incantation. HIs magic tingled through him, and a small cat appeared in front of him.

 

Emrys grinned and reached his hand out to it. The little cat purred and rolled onto its back, obviously wanting a belly rub. It sadly wasn’t real, so Emrys's hand slipped right through it. The illusion wore off and the cat disappeared. 

 

Another cat, a dog, a bed of roses, and strands of fire that flowed out of his fingers later, Emrys figured he had gotten at least the minor illusion magic mastered. Gaius’ snores echoed through the room, and he decided it was time to move.

 

He slipped out of the room and down the corridor, using his magic to steer around guards and servants. Eventually, it led him to a hidden door that led to a guarded staircase. He enchanted the guards’ dice to fly away, and slipped into the stairwell.

 

The elf had forgotten to bring a torch, but he had literally just finished practicing illusions. He conjured a small ball of fire into his hand (illusion fire didn’t burn anything, but it still gave light). 

 

Armed with light, he proceeded down the stairs. 

 

The stairs ended in a room full of bones and broken stone. Emrys was beginning to feel a little unsettled; should he turn back?

 

No, he decided. He couldn’t. He needed to get some sleep.

 

He walked through the door into the next room, only to discover that it wasn’t a room at all. He was on a ledge that opened into an enormous cavern. 

 

_ Where was he? _

 

Suddenly, a dragon swooped down from goddess-knows-where and landed on the ledge. Emrys jumped back, losing concentration on the orb of fire. It went out, and he was plunged into complete darkness.

 

A laugh cut through the silence. 

 

“Do not worry, young warlock. I will not harm you. Now, relight your hand so we might talk.”

 

Emrys obeyed, and allowed the orb to return. With the light cutting through the gloom, he could see the massive dragon now perched on a boulder in the centre of the room. It seemed old; its golden eyes gleamed with hidden knowledge in the light.

 

Praying his voice wouldn’t shake too bad, Emrys spoke. “What do you want from me?”

 

“Want? I wish only to help. I am the Great Dragon, Kilgharrah. The king imprisoned me under this castle twenty years ago. It is your destiny to get me out, therefore I desire to help you.” The dragon chuckled again. “You’re quite smaller than I expected, but your ears are just as large.”

 

“Haha, very funny. Now please tell me why you can't let me sleep.” Emrys would be the first one to admit that he was cranky from exhaustion. 

 

The dragon, not noticing or perhaps just not affected by the boy's sarcasm, continued. “You have made greater progress than I expected, Merlin. Already the prince's servant, you are in the position to protect him.”

 

Emrys tried to interrupt, to tell the dragon that he had something wrong; Arthur was a massive prat; but the beast chugged on. 

 

“You are destined to work beside Arthur and unite the entirety of Albion. Without him, you will fail, and without you, he shall. You are two sides of the same coin; one will not succeed without the other.

 

“Camelot is soon to be plunged into turmoil. Your prince will face enemies in friend and foe. It is your duty,  _ your fate _ , to protect him, care for him, teach him to one day lead. As you teach him, he too shall teach you. You may find yourself with your own ruling responsibilities in time.”

 

At this, Emrys became so confused that the flame went out again. He concentrated on bringing it back, but as he did, the dragon flapped off into the distance.

 

Emrys groaned when he saw that the beast had disappeared, but at least he had gotten what he came for. The voice (hopefully) wouldn't bother him again. 

 

He wandered back up the stairs and through the castle to his room. The bed was somewhat hard, but it looked like a feather now. He fell onto it face first, asleep before his head hit the pillow.

  
  


He groaned louder than humanly possible when roused four hours later. Ignoring Gaius’ calls for him to wake up, Emrys shoved a pillow over his head. The old man didn't take a hint, left, and came back with two pans. 

 

One god-awful racket later, a  _ very  _ irritated Emrys was sent out on morning rounds.

 

He was dragged out of his stupor when his sleep-addled brain processed Gaius’ instructions. He was to deliver the voice drought to Lady Helen!

 

The elf rushed through the castle to the lady's room, checked the corridor twice, and opened the door without knocking. The room was empty. 

 

Emrys snuck in, leaving the drought on the armoire. He then proceeded to the mirror. It was, as he remembered, covered by a sheet. 

 

He had just reached out to the mirror when a voice sounded behind him. 

 

“What are you doing?” Helena had appeared in the doorway, and was staring him down. 

 

“Oh- um- I came to bring you this. It's from Gaius, for your voice,” Emrys said, grabbing the vial and handing it to her. Again, he kept his eyes on the ground.

 

He was not so lucky this time.

 

“Raise your eyes, boy. I want to see if you're lying to me.” 

 

Emrys's eyes raised, and his gaze came to rest on her shining sapphire eyes. There was no doubt now- she was an elf, and a powerful one. All elves had brilliantly coloured eyes- bright blue, bright green, bright gold, et cetera. Power could be judged from the concentration of colour; the lighter the eye, the more powerful the elf. Emrys seemed to be an exception to that rule. His eyes were a crystalline blue, almost ice, which could only be found in the eyes of the most powerful. 

 

He didn't know why he was an exception. Was it because he was half human? His mother had brown eyes, though, so that should have made his eyes darker… 

 

As he followed down a tangent of thought, the lady followed one of her own. She crossed the room swiftly, and shut the door. She then rounded on Emrys.

 

“I don't know what you're doing here, but this is my revenge! I don't know how you were wronged by the Pendragons, but I'LL be the one to kill Arthur! Not you!” As she spoke, she advanced on Emrys, jabbing a finger into his chest. “I don't care how powerful you are- he killed my daughter! I'll kill his son in return, and you can do what you will with Uther.”

 

At this point, Emrys had figured out what was going on. She thought- she thought that Emrys was here in disguise for revenge! He wanted to laugh out loud. However, she was here, knew what he was, and was unafraid of his non-existent superior magic. The best thing for him now was to play along.

 

He gently steered her hand away from his chest, and gave a somewhat pitying smile. “Alright,” he ‘conceded.’ “You can have the son, as long as I can have the father.”

 

The Lady Helen smiled and brought her hands down again. “So, what is your name, my friend? Clearly not that ridiculous human name, Merlin.”

 

“Well, I'd like to know your name first, friend.” He kept his smile carefree, doing his best to back up the pretense of actually being highly powerful. 

 

“My name is Daphinia. Calynthia, the elf you might have seen executed in the square, was my daughter. I assumed the form of Lady Helen to sneak into the palace.”

 

Emrys wanted to enquire as to what happened to the real Lady Helen, but there was only one real answer. Despite the other elf's “friendliness”, he knew she would have killed him if he had gotten in her way. He could never be like her, no matter what he suffered.

 

“Before Calynthia was captured, the two of us were posing as simple village medics. We concealed our ears with glamour charms, and studied medicine dutifully so that we could explain away any ‘miracle’. We were happy until she fell in love with a soldier. We saved his life when his comrades brought him in, arm near sliced in two. They formed a close bond, and she thought that she could reveal who she was to him. She thought he would love her anyway! He betrayed her- struck her in irons with the same arms she had healed! When she died, I swore that Pendragon would suffer in the way I suffered- he will lose his son, just as I lost my daughter!” Her voice had risen over the course of her speech, but she composed herself. “Now, what might your name and story be?”

 

“My name is Emrys, and-”

 

He was cut off because, at the name, Daphinia collapsed onto one knee. “My lord!” 

 

“Wh- what do you mean?!” Emrys cried, stumbling backwards. It was just a name, wasn't it?

 

“Ah,” she said, rising again. “I forget your upbringing. King Balinor forbade the name Emrys when he discovered you existed; your identity would be known once you introduced yourself to anyone.”

 

“I don't understand…”

 

“You, my lord, are Emrys Ambrosius, prince to the throne of Ailonwyn. Your father, King Balinor Ambrosius Dragonsbreath, has been searching for you since he discovered your conception. He never married and has no other children, so despite your illegitimacy, you are the heir to the throne. Ah- the honor of being the person who discovered your location!” She bowed again, and Emrys was only more confused. 

 

“I still don't understand; my father was a traveler who tarried with my mother for a short time. He was an elf, this I know, but he was no one important! Besides, even if I was the crown prince of some country I've hardly heard of, I don't know the slightest thing about ruling. Shouldn't he just find someone else? Or even, you know, have a legitimate heir?”

 

“It is understandable, my lord,” Daphinia said, “You have been raised in the human lands, where the very existence of our nation has been hidden away. And you shouldn't worry about your lack of political education- I can teach you what you must know about our culture. Before I was exiled, Calynthia and I were women of the court. I am well versed in state affairs.”

 

Emrys wanted to ask her about the reason for her exile, but that wasn't going to make them friends. Instead, he agreed with her idea and suggested a way to meet. “I've been drafted as your manservant by Arthur, so you must simply come up with chores for me to do.”

 

“Excellent,” she agreed, smiling. “I shall look for things that I can make go wrong. Now, your Highness, you need to get on- your absence may be noticed.”

 

He nodded to her and left the room. Walking down the corridor, he happened to glance out a window. The sun was midway in the sky! He was going to be late for practice, and wasn't even in his armour!

 

The elf broke into a very un-princely run, shoving through crowds of servants to make it to the field. He strapped on his armour at the speed of light and raced out to the field. 

 

Sadly, his lateness had not gone unnoticed. Arthur's eyes snapped to him the moment he arrived on the field. The prince bore down on him, crossing his arms. 

 

“Why are you late, Merlin? Hmm? Something more important than learning to keep me safe?”

 

“Sorry sire! Lady Helen kept me running chores longer than I expected!” Emrys rushed through another apology, but Arthur held up a hand. 

 

“You'll just have to make it up. You'll be running laps as long as we're training, and once practice is done, you'll muck out the stables.”

 

Emrys groaned.

  
  


Meanwhile, lady Daphinia watched out of her window at the young prince and smiled. What luck to have found him! His damn father had exiled her and her daughter, and now Calynthia was dead. Now she could punish Balinor too.

 

_ Septem completum.  _

_ Seven complete. _

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh yeah, by the way... this story will be veeerrrrryyyyy long. I'm building up to a fantastic and super cute scene that I've been planning since the beginning.

_ Hoc, dies cenae advenit. _

_ In this, the day of the dinner arrives. _

 

After endurance training that day, Emrys was ready to drop dead. Unfortunately, he still had to muck out the stables and clean the floors. He pulled off his armour and stumbled into the stables, grabbing a shovel as he went. 

 

He began to shovel the piled up horse dung, wrinkling his nose at the awful smells. This wasn't to be his life in the future apparently- soon he would probably have his every move planned and judged. Oh Goddess, what if he ended up a prat like Arthur?

 

His thoughts turned down another track when he remembered Arthur, and the track wasn't a favorable one. What would happen when Lady Helen killed Arthur? The dragon, Kilgarrah, said that Emrys would not succeed without Arthur… what would happen when he died? He shook the train of thought out of his head as he chucked another shovel full out of the stable. 

 

An hour later, Emrys was done. His entire being was covered in and smelled like manure. He had hay sticking out of his hair, caught in his belt, and tucked into his shoes. He laughed to himself when he reminded himself of his true identity. Prince Emrys Merlin Ambrosius, son of King Balinor of Ailonwyn, the smelliest lord of them all!

 

His laughter at his royal joke was a tiny chortle compared to Gaius’ boisterous laugh when he came into the physician's quarters. 

 

“Did you clean the stables or swim in them, Merlin?”

 

The stinky warlock crossed the room to the washbasin, not as humoured as his mentor. “God, Gaius, today was awful. I had to run chores for Lady Helen all morning and was late to practice because of it, which of course caused Arthur to make me run laps the entire training period. Then he made me scrub out the stables, and once I'm clean, I'll be heading to clean his floors.” Emrys let out a groan of irritation and began to wash his face. 

 

The physician smiled and went back to his reading.

 

Emrys finished washing up, changed his shirt, and got on his way to Arthur's rooms. The life of a Camelot servant was hard. 

 

 

Speaking of Camelot servants, the halls were full of them today. People bustled around, preparing for the next day's feast. Emrys was to be serving that day, and was… less than excited about that. Nobles had a tendency to be loud and rude. 

 

Just like a certain prat.

 

Arthur appeared at the elf's shoulder, and immediately began to berate him. 

 

“Merlin, what are you doing here? You're supposed to be on your way to my room to clean it!”

 

Emrys rolled his eyes at him. “If you'd look sire, I am walking on the way to your rooms.”

 

Arthur, noticing where they were headed as they walked, blushed slightly. “Ah, yes…

 

“Anyway, Merlin,” he continued briskly, “I need you to perform some additional chores when you're done. I need my boots polished, my tunic pressed, my pants mended, my scabbard and belt shined, and I need to have my socks washed. After that, I want you to go attend Lady Helen for the rest of the evening.”

 

_ Rest of the evening he says,  _ Emrys thought to himself,  _ It'll be night before I finish this.  _

 

Arthur then disappeared from the elf's side faster than a stag, and a new player appeared. Guinevere smiled at her friend as they walked. Her arms were full of clothes- she had probably gotten a similar laundry list from Morgana as Emrys had gotten from Arthur.

 

“Are you going to be at the feast tomorrow, Merlin?”

 

He grinned to her. “Yes! Might I see you there?”

 

“I'll be attending to the Lady Morgana, and you to Arthur, so I suppose you shall.” She returned his smile with one of her own, pearly teeth shining in the sunlight filtering into the corridor. Emrys didn't even register that the two had stopped walking. 

 

True to herself, Gwen made a stammering revision of her statement. “Not that I'll be expressly looking for you, of course! But it's not that I don't like you- I'll be looking for all of my friends! Not that I want to assume we're friends or anythin-”

 

“Gwen, I know what you mean,” Emrys assured. “And of course I consider you a friend.”

 

“Thank you, Merlin.” They spent a moment enjoying quiet company, but soon the realization hit that they were standing in the middle of the hallway. They set off again, walking and talking. 

 

Their party of two soon split when Emrys turned off the main hallway to get to Arthur's chambers. When he reached his destination, however, his only reaction was a gasp. 

 

Goddess, had the entire  _ army _ come through? 

 

There was mud dried and drying on the ground, clothes were flung over every available surface, Arthur's desk was covered in papers- the list went on. What had the idiot prince  _ done _ ?

 

Emrys quickly assessed the damage. Cleaning the floor would take a few hours on his own. But if he used magic…

 

Arthur was on patrol, the King would have no reason to visit, Lady Helena was an “ally”, and he was the only servant permitted in Arthur's rooms. He would be completely safe.

 

A wave of his hand and a quiet incantation soon had the cleaning supplies swooping off to their various targets. Emrys looked around triumphantly and judged his new course of action. He had no chores, he hadn't slept, and-

 

His eyes alighted on the plush bed. Walking over, he plunked himself down and sank into the mattress. This was the softest thing he had ever felt!

 

A very unmanly chuckle slipped through Emrys's lips as he snuggled a bit more into the mattress. Oh Goddess, this bed was so soft…

 

 

He woke again a few hours later, cursing himself. He had places to be!

 

The enchantments on the cleaning supplies had already cancelled, and the finished products were laid out with uncharacteristic perfection. Arthur was sure to have a cow when he came back. 

 

Rolling out of bed, Emrys made sure that he hadn't left any clues to magic use. Nope- nothing. 

 

He cast a final charm to remake the bed, removing any hints that he might have been there. His touch opened the door, and out he went. He was supposed to wait on "Lady Helen" tonight.

  
  


Fortunately, Daphinia was in a meeting with King Uther, so Emrys was gladly left with some free time and an alibi to snoop in her rooms. He couldn't use magic in here because she might recognize his signature, but sometimes good old fashioned poking around could do the trick.

 

Sadly, his snooping only turned up a small dagger, possibly for cutting potion ingredients. He replaced it carefully, wiping off any possibility of fingerprints with his sleeve.

 

Daphinia still hadn't returned in the hour he had “waited”, so Emrys figured that was as good a reason as any to go home and to bed. He left the room, closing the door behind him, and made his way through the castle to Gaius's chambers and beyond that, his bed.

  
  


Despite the difference in softness between his bed and Arthur's, Emrys slept like a dream, tired from the day. What he didn't know was that, on the other side of the castle, Arthur also fell asleep easily that night, borne on the wings of a pleasant smell left on his pillow. He would have to ask Merlin what kind of herbs he had scented the bed with- they smelled luscious. 

 

(If it wasn't obvious, it's eau-de-Emrys.)

  
  


If the day before had been busy, Emrys had no clue what to call the few hours preceding the feast. No one he passed in the hallway had empty hands; every Camelot servant found themselves lacking any amount of free time. 

 

Emrys was included in that statement. 

 

If getting dressed was a timed sport, Arthur would finally be bad at one. The royal was unbelievably slow getting out of bed, even worse getting in the bath, and Emrys swore snails moved faster than he got dressed. It didn't even make sense; Emrys was doing the work- all the prat had to do was raise his arms!

 

Finally, Arthur was dressed in his ceremonial best, and Emrys had to admit that he looked handsome. Camelot red looked good on him- really good. 

 

Hold up, what was he thinking?! Arthur was a royal pain in the arse, and Emrys wouldn't be caught dead thinking he was attractive!

 

_ Oh dear _ .

 

_ He was  _ not  _ going to develop an interest in magic-hating Arthur, son of Uther, enemy to all things Emrys. He was  _ not  _ doing that today!  _

 

Emrys shook his head vigorously to get the thought out, and Arthur looked at him oddly. “I'd say you were acting odd, Merlin, but that's your typical behavior.”

 

“That's rich, coming from you.” Emrys chuckled, handing the prince his sword. Arthur took it, and in one fluid motion, swung it at the elf's legs. 

 

“Surprise attack!”

 

Emrys jumped back to avoid the blade, then darted to the rack of swords off to the side. He grabbed one quickly, turning back around to see the prince's sword coming at him again. He parried, using Arthur's forward momentum to grab his arm and swing in forwards. Arthur was caught off balance for a second, but righted himself and entered into a series of fast paced blows. 

 

Lighter on his feet and smaller, Emrys had a speed advantage, but he was unarmored and not as strong. Weighing his options, he took the obvious route.

 

He reached out with his magic and caused Arthur's laces to knot together. Arthur stumbled and fell, and Emrys tapped his sword against the prince's throat, magically untying the laces before Arthur noticed. 

 

“Do you yield, sire?”

 

Arthur held out his hand to Emrys, and the elf pulled his opponent up. 

 

“Well done, Merlin,” Arthur congratulated, placing his sword in his scabbard. “Sometimes during training I worry that punch was just a fluke, but you prove yourself when you must.”

 

“Thank y-” Emrys was cut off by the sound of ringing bells. He yelped in surprise, and Arthur grinned at the absolutely girly noise. He  _ had  _ to remind Merlin of this later. 

 

“Arthur, you're going to be late to the king's speech!” With this, the warlock began shoving the prince out the door. 

 

Arthur allowed himself to be shoved, internally laughing at his servant's worry. He almost wanted to be late, just so Merlin would get thrown in the stocks.

 

However, he wasn't that much of an ass, so he followed Merlin's shoving and left the room.

 

_ Octem completum. _


	9. Chapter 9

 

_ Hoc, Arthur morte servatur Emrye. _

_ In this, Arthur is saved from death by Emrys. _

 

The banquet hall was lined with long tables full of nobles and food. Servants waited on lords and ladies, holding platters of roasts, sweets and fruits, and pitchers full of sweet wine. Emrys stood next to Gwen by the high table, the former holding a pitcher and the latter a platter of sugared strawberries. 

 

Due to the feast's noise, the two were allowed to chat together- no one could hear them above the rest of the clamor. 

 

Emrys was purposefully keeping his eyes on everything but Arthur, and Gwen seemed to be doing the same, but with someone else. 

 

“So,” Emrys was startled out of his inspection of one of the tapestries by Gwen's whisper. “Who are you avoiding looking at?”

 

He blushed bright red. “Oh, no one! The Pri-TAPESTRIES look very nice tonight. Must be the torches- yes, must be.”

 

Gwen giggled, the noise bell-like. “Ah yes, and that's why you almost said prince.”

 

“No, I said tapestries!”

 

“Alright,” she said, patting his shoulder. “You should know though- I won't tell you who I was avoiding until you tell me.”

 

“And you assume I'm so gossip hungry why?” Emrys let a layer of sass mask his interest. Who was Gwen interested in, and was it worth the admittance of his tiny crush to tell her?

 

He didn't get to decide, however, because King Uther stood up, effectively ending all conversation. 

 

“Of all the joys I experience as king, there is none so great as the opportunity for me to introduce to you the Lady Helen.” He waved his hand, and Daphinia stepped onto the stage, resplendent in a golden gown.

 

Emrys had warning bells going off; he knew with almost full certainty that this would be when she made a move. He reached out to his magic, drawing some up for a quick response to any attack.

 

However, no attack came. Daphinia opened her mouth and began to sing. 

 

The words of the incantation disguised as a song seemed to bury themselves in the brain, bringing a wave of sleepiness. The torches in the hall went out, blown away by a phantom wind. Emrys clapped his hands over his ears. The song went on; the room was soon covered in cobwebs.

 

Emrys had never seen this kind of spell before, and he momentarily wished he had stolen her magic books. He could have learnt powerful spells like this and used them for good!

 

Daphinia's song stopped, and Emrys tensed, ready for action. She moved towards the dias on which the royals sat, drawing a knife as she walked. 

 

It was now or never.

 

A large crash sounded as the chandelier fell down to earth, its chain unfastened by Emrys's instinctual magic. 

 

Daphinia was crushed under it, so surprised that her glamour fell. The world returned to its normal brightness, and people began to wake up. 

 

As everyone got reacquainted with reality, Emrys took a second to look at the elf under the chandelier. Daphinia looked just like her daughter- blonde and blue eyed, with eyes just a bit more world weary. Their eyes met, but unlike how her daughter had smiled, the mother scowled. 

 

Uther had come to, and as could be expected, was screaming about sorcery. However, in that moment, the world slowed down.

 

The same knife that Emrys had discovered in her chambers was in Daphinia’s hand again- it was being drawn back- it was flying through the air. The half-elf warlock practically flew through the air, grabbing Arthur out of his seat. 

 

They crashed onto the ground, Emrys on top of the prince. Their faces were so close; Emrys revelled in the feeling of Arthur's solid, strong body on his own. 

 

Then the world returned to rights. Emrys shoved himself up, and held out his hand to Arthur. The prince gratefully took it, pulling himself up. Sparing a glance behind him, Emrys spotted the dagger embedded three inches into Arthur's chair.

 

Uther came to stand by the two. “You saved my son! You shall be rewarded!”

 

“Oh… it was nothing…” Under the gaze of his technical sovereign, Emrys quailed. 

 

_ Get out of my face get out of my face don't kill me don't kill me don't kill me _

 

“Nonsense. Let's see- you already have a place in the royal household, you are the closest thing to a knight that a commoner can be as Arthur's bodyguard… Ah!”

 

Emrys jumped out of his skin at the king's exclamation. “S-sire?”

 

Uther's hand clapped onto the servant's shoulder. “You shall be given the title of Friend of Camelot! We'll hold the ceremony in a week. In addition, you will be awarded a sum of fifty gold, to be used how you wish.”

 

The room exploded into applause. Out of the corner of his eye, Emrys could see Arthur smiling. When the hall returned back to silence, Emrys realized he had to reply. 

 

“Thank you, your Majesty. It's- um- it's really an honor, my lord.”

 

Not noticing the elf's obvious nerves, Uther smiled and welcomed a second round of applause. Arthur reached over, muttered something in his father's ear, and the king gestured for him to go ahead. 

 

The prince then grabbed Emrys's arm and guided him out of the hall. When they were out of sight, Arthur sighed and leaned against the wall. Emrys followed suit. 

 

“You don't know what the name means, do you?”

 

Emrys flushed. “No! Of course I do! I was just… stunned by the lights, is all.”

 

Arthur burst into peals of laughter at Emrys's hasty claim. “You are a terrible liar, Merlin!”

 

“I-I'm not lying!”

 

“Oh really? What does the title mean?”

 

Emrys sighed, admitting defeat. “I don't know, sire.”

 

“Well,” declared the prince, switching into the teacher-y voice that he used with the knights, “I'll explain. It's a brilliant bit of political strategy you see, providing a way to offer worthy commoners a chance to advance to nobility, while still making it a slippery slope, and finally offering an incentive for loyalty to the royal family.

 

“Being a Friend of Camelot is the commoner equivalent of being a noble. You get to attend court and get treated with utmost respect. However, being a Friend of Camelot does not award you riches, so your social status hardly changes. It's also not hereditary. The status is only given to those who save the life of the king (or prince). There are more Friends of Camelot made during wartime than anything else. 

 

“The big importance of the title is that you get a chance to join the knights. If there is an incredibly adept peasant, they can be awarded the title and become a knight, not breaking the First Code of Camelot. After you become one, you can petition the king to become a noble. If he sees you fit, he'll make you successor to a noble family with no heirs. After your new parents die, you gain their title, riches, and lands. Again, a wonderful, if very classist, method of social promotion.”

 

Emrys was taken aback by the sudden influx of information, but went with the flow. “So what you're saying is… the king wants me to become a knight?”

 

Arthur nodded. “Apparently so.” He then turned and walked back to the banquet hall, waving over his shoulder. “You have the night off, and you'll begin training as a knight recruit tomorrow! And don't forget- you're still my servant!”

 

After the prattish prince had departed, Emrys slipped through the corridors to the dead elf's room. There weren't any guards scavenging it yet, so he had time. He cast a quick unlocking spell on the door and slunk in.

 

Five minutes later, he snuck back out again, clutching her two magic books to his chest.

 

_ Novem completum _


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My favorite chapter so far! I hope you all enjoy it.

_ Hoc, allectio Emryis occurat, et duellum pugnatur. _

_ In this, the promotion of Emrys occurs, and a duel is fought. _

 

The next days followed the same rhythm they always had, except for Emrys's increased training (and the chance to study his new books). He was to fight Arthur to win a position as a knight two days after the ceremony that would make him a Friend of Camelot, so Arthur was piling on the practice. Even though he wouldn't ask, and Arthur would never admit, it was clear that the prince wanted Emrys to be in the knights. (Emrys couldn't fathom why.)

 

The dragon hadn't contacted him again, and no attempts had been made on the prince's life. Apart from the tournament coming up, Emrys was looking forward to a couple of calm weeks after his promotion. 

 

However, just as everything else, life had it out for him. Gaius stopped the elf on his way to his room. “Merlin, a word.”

 

“Yes Gaius?” He may have seemed calm, but inside, Emrys was trying to figure out just what it was that he hadn't done. 

 

Gaius chuckled- his young ward thought he was so good at hiding his emotions. In reality though, he was like an open book. Goddess knew how he was able to keep a secret. “No need to worry, you're not in any trouble. I have a gift for you.” The old man handed a rectangular package the lad. “I thought you might like it.”

 

Emrys excitedly tore off the wrapping to reveal a large, leather bound book. He quickly undid the latches and gave Gaius a massive hug the second he opened it. The old man groaned at the pressure, his ribs creaking.

 

“A magic book?! Thank you so much Gaius- you have no idea how much this means to me!” Emrys pulled back from the hug, and Gaius enjoyed the rush of air once again going to his lungs. 

 

“Ah- well I'm glad you like it, Merlin. I received this book when I was about your age, and I'm proud to pass it on to you.”

 

Emrys clutched the book to his chest. “I will study every word!” The warlock then dashed to his room, threw himself onto his bed, and opened his new book. 

 

Gaius chuckled. He felt as though he wouldn't be seeing Merlin for a while.

 

He was entirely correct. In the next few days, Emrys hardly ventured out of his room, even for meals, preferring to summon food and continue studying. Gaius was, of course, somewhat worried for his ward, but he was more proud. If he continued with his strong drive, Merlin was sure to be the greatest magic user in the land in a few years.

  
  


Three days later, Emrys was woken by a gentle shaking. He blearily opened his eyes to see- “Arthur, what are you doing here?” 

 

The prince rubbed the back of his neck, a faint blush spotting his cheeks. “Well, I figured… that since today is your ceremony… I would do you a favour and help you get dressed.”

 

“No- you’re joking.” Emrys looked up at his master, and was surprised when he found the crystalline eyes completely guileless. He acquiesced, shrugged. “Alright then; my regular clothes will work for my outfit, right?”

 

Arthur laughed out loud at this. “Merlin, you dress fit for a country faire, maybe, but not for a promotion ceremony to Friend of Camelot! The position does require some degree of presentation.”

 

“Fine- what do you propose I wear?” 

 

At the elf’s question, Arthur bent down. Emrys threw off the covers and assumed a sitting position on the bed. 

 

The prince straightened again holding a set of black, fitted trousers and a high collared blue shirt. “I… tried to figure out something you would like. The pants are old ones of mine, but nothing in my wardrobe could fit your… tiny torso.”

 

Emrys snorted, slightly affronted. “Excuse me, we can’t all be giant prats with builds like oxen!”

 

“You are still my servant, Merlin, you cannot address me like that!” Arthur exclaimed loudly, swatting his friend upside the head. 

 

“I can address you however I want when you’re playing my servant!”

 

“Then I guess I might as well inform you that the shirt came from the lady Morgana’s closet!”

 

Emrys sat back, gobsmacked. “You couldn’t find anything of yours that would fit me… so you brought me… your  _ sister’s  _ clothes?!” 

 

“Well, it’s kind of masculine; it’s one of her old sword-practice shirts. She said you could keep it, too. Oh- same with the pants and shoes of course.” Arthur smiled, pulling out the final touch to the outfit. “Morgana’s again, but they’re nice enough. You’re enough of a girl anyway.”

 

_ How was Emrys going to tolerate working for this ass for the rest of his considerably long life?  _

 

Admittedly, the boots were nice.

  
  


The hall was dressed for the promotion and the following feast. Apart from the flowers (which had been replaced with new ones), most of the decorations in the hall were left over from the celebrations of the past week. The tables had been pushed to the sides of the room, with rows of chairs siding the centre aisle. Emrys peeped through the double doors into the rapidly filling room- it seemed everyone in Camelot had shown up! 

 

Suddenly, a presence appeared at his shoulder. Emrys, startled, wheeled around, hand going to his side for his rapier. Arthur backed up, showing empty hands. 

 

“Chill out, Merlin, it’s just me!”

 

Emrys let loose a breath. “Sorry, a bit nervous is all.” 

  
  


Although Merlin said he was nervous, Arthur thought he had never looked more self-assured. And more beautiful. The pale blue of the shirt almost matched his eyes, and the pants hugged his legs most perfectly. The shiny calf-length boots had small gold accents on them, matching the gold hilt of the sword at his side. Merlin looked… delicious.

 

If he had known what the emotional repercussions would be of seeing Merlin dressed like this, Arthur wouldn’t have bothered. He was going to need to go see Gaius- his heart was beating most oddly. 

 

Fortunately for the young prince’s nerves, trumpets sounded from inside. The ceremony was to be beginning soon, and as the person bestowing the badge of office, Arthur needed to get inside. He smiled to Merlin. 

 

“I’ll… see you soon, Merlin. You’ll be fine. Just, uh, keep your eyes on me, and try to ignore the rest of the audience. It’ll help the nerves.”

 

He opened the door and looked back over his shoulder to his friend.

 

“Oh- and Merlin? Don’t trip.”

  
  


Emrys smiled to Arthur as the prince entered the hall. However, his words reminded him of just how nervous he was. What if he tripped and knocked off one of his ears? He had just saved Arthur's life, but that wouldn't be enough to keep the king from calling for his head! Maybe he should just turn around and escape- he could hide in his room and miss the ceremony.

 

No! He shook his head to get the panicked thoughts out. The ceremony was going to go fine; he would walk in, Arthur would say a few words, and life would proceed as normal. 

 

To take his mind off things, he resorted to humming his song again. When it didn't work, he closed his eyes and quietly sang a verse. 

 

“Lavender's green, dilly dilly,

Lavender's blue,

If you love me, dilly dilly, 

I will love you…”

 

The song worked, and Emrys felt calmer and more focused than ever. He smiled and steeled his nerves one last time before the trumpets sounded again and the doors opened.

 

He strode down the centre aisle, trying his best to avoid the looks from the nobles on both sides. 

 

Uther sat on the throne at the wall, Morgana next to him. However, Arthur was manning the ceremony today, and was waiting for Emrys at the front. In his hands rested a black velvet box, bearing the badge of office inside. He sent the elf a large smile as he neared.

 

_ Don't trip. _

 

Emrys knew most people thought him clumsy, and he most certainly could be. However, his elven gracefulness came when he needed it. His steps lightened as he walked, and he reached the dais without any mishaps. 

 

“Kneel, Merlin, servant of Camelot. You have shown great bravery in your actions for the crown. Today, all of Camelot shall witness what we have already seen in you. Do you swear to uphold the laws of Camelot, serve your king and prince well, and be an example to the other citizens of our beautiful kingdom?”

 

Emrys dropped to his knees in front of his prince gracefully and bowed his head. “Yes, my lord.”

 

“Then rise, Merlin, Friend of Camelot.” 

 

Emrys got to his feet, and Arthur grinned as he pinned the silver insignia above his heart. He placed one hand on the elf’s shoulder, leaned in, and whispered a brief congratulations into his ear. Emrys felt his cheeks brighten. The hall erupted into cheers as the warlock faced them, displaying the brooch. 

 

He glanced down at it, taking in the silver engraving of two hands holding a sword. It was beautiful. He was a bit confused by the colour choice- wasn’t the colour of Camelot red? Why was the pin studded with pale sapphires?

 

He would have to ask Arthur later.

  
  


He got a chance to ask after the ceremony, as everyone left the hall for a moment as servants streamed in, moving the tables back to their original places and filling them with food. Arthur remained at Emry’s side as they left the hall, his father and sister walking with them. Gwen and Arthur’s old servant trailed behind. 

 

Uther smiled to Emrys (scary!). “Congratulations, Merlin. I hope this truly conveys the depth of our gratitude for your saving of Arthur’s life.”

 

“Ah, yes sire, it does. I would do it again if I had to,” Emrys replied honestly. He would do it again if the need ever arose, partially because of destiny, and partially because Arthur was his friend. “I do have a question, though.”

 

“Yes?”

 

“Why are there blue gems on the pin? I thought Camelot’s colour was red.”

 

Uther chuckled and smacked Arthur lightly on the back of the head. “Come now, you didn’t tell him?” He then addressed Emrys once more. “My son came to me and requested that your insignia be blue, something about light sapphires matching your eyes.”

 

Emrys felt the tint in his cheeks jump to new heights at that.

 

“Father! No, Merlin, if you must know, I said that ruby red wouldn’t match your eyes. Sapphires match your complexion better than rubies every would…” Arthur trailed off, the red in his face now matching Emrys’s.

 

Thankfully for both of them, a servant arrived at that moment to inform them that the feast was served.

  
  


The next two days were full of rest and training. As a gift from the king, Emrys was awarded a break from servant work until after he was knighted. Instead, he practiced with Arthur thrice a day, and ran through practice duels with the rest of the knights. He wouldn’t be allowed to cross blows with Arthur until his actual knight duel. 

 

He was getting better than he had ever been. Arthur was a great teacher; Emrys had learned to use his slight build, nimble body, and high stamina to get the upper hand on any opponent. He couldn’t knock someone down, but he could dodge their blows and tire them out, then fell them with a well placed jab. 

 

At this point, he had beaten every knight on the team save one. 

 

“Come on, Merlin, I know you can be faster than this!” Leon chided as he deflected yet another of Emrys's attacks. The tall older knight was Arthur's second in command for a reason; his skills in leadership and planning were only matched by his prowess with a sword. 

 

Emrys internally groaned as he had to drop and roll to the side to avoid a swift swipe. Leon had no openings, and the elf was hard pressed to even find time to look for them. 

 

However, Arthur had told him that in the heat of battle, sometimes you had to fight dirty. Emrys flicked his hair out of his face and focused his gaze on the strap of Leon's breastplate.

 

The leather snapped, and the knight hastily reached down to fix it. Emrys took the advantage and swept a leg, knocking Leon off of his feet. The knight hit the ground hard, sword flying out of his hand and away. He sat up almost immediately and pulled off his helmet. He extended a hand to Emrys, and the elf helped pull him up. 

 

Back on his feet, Leon slapped the elf's back with a smile. “Well done, Merlin! You noticed my opening the second it appeared. Great technique, you'll be fine tomorrow.”

 

Emrys smiled back, enjoying the feeling of belonging. He would fight a thousand battles to keep it. 

 

And honestly, though he only had to fight one duel, he would prefer the thousand.

  
  


The next morning dawned crisp and clear over Camelot, perfect weather for the fight. No rain had fallen in the past two days, so there would be no issue of mud. However, Emrys wished that there had been storms and floods. 

 

Gaius patted Emrys's back as the elf sat at the table, stressing out. “You'll be fine, Merlin. You've been preparing for a while.”

 

“But I haven't!” Emrys exclaimed into his palms, “I first picked up a sword three months ago!”

 

The old man sat back on the bench, his voice getting more serious. “When you first came to Camelot, you didn't know what to do with your magic. You had studied, but you had no outlet. You saved Arthur at the feast last week, so I think we've found it.”

 

Emrys looked up from his hands. “You don't mean…”

 

“Yes, I do. You can use your powers to protect Arthur, and as a knight, you can do it even better. Besides, your life will be nicer and your opinion will hold more sway. There's nothing wrong with that.”

 

The warlock sprang from his seat and hugged the old man. “Oh, thank you Gaius! You're right- I'll become a knight and protect Arthur!”

 

Emrys ran up to his room and strapped on his armour in record time, grabbed his sword, and was about to leave when his mentor reminded him of one more thing. 

 

“Merlin, you have another two hours until your fight.”

 

_ Oh yeah. _

  
  


Two hours later, Emrys was out on the field, staring down Arthur. Neither of them had donned their helmets yet, as was honourable before the duel. Arthur reviewed the rules.

 

“Alright, Merlin, Friend of Camelot. You will fight me in personal combat. If you last one minute, you will be made a knight. Fail, and your journey ends here.”

 

Emrys nodded, and steeled his nerves. “Yes, sire.”

 

“The duel will begin,” Arthur nodded to the time keeper. “Now.”

 

The two shoved their helmets over their heads and drew their swords. Knowing of Arthur's defensive prowess, Emrys decided not to take the offensive, rather let the prince come at him. They circled each other, eyes searching for any opening in the other's stance. Arthur's fighting style was very different from Emrys's. He held his sword parallel to the ground and took his centre of gravity low, while the elf bounced on the balls of his feet, posture loose and sword held across his body. 

 

Suddenly, like an arrow from a bow, Arthur sprang at him. Emrys parried, using his smaller frame to dance away. A feint and a jab, followed by two quick and strong swings, saw the elf inundated under blows. 

 

The prince came at him with a broad swipe, and Emrys ducked. While lower than Arthur's blade, he made a swipe of his own upwards, catching the bottom of his opponent's helmet and yanking it off. 

 

Arthur retreated, face uncovered. 

 

As honour dictated, Emrys took off his helmet and resumed fighting stance. Arthur met his eyes and smiled, and he could see pride in them. 

 

However, there were still thirty seconds on the clock. Emrys took the offensive despite his earlier decision. His quick strides saw him advance on Arthur, body weaving and bending to avoid the prince's sword. Once close, he hooked his foot behind Arthur's, successfully knocking him onto his back. 

 

“Do you yield, sire?” He asked, tapping his sword on Arthur's breast plate. 

 

His friend nodded, and Emrys pulled him up. 

 

Once back on solid ground, Arthur wrapped Emrys in a hug. The elf could feel his body temperature increasing, enjoying yet again the prince's strong body against his own. 

 

He felt a slight tickle at his ear and involuntarily shuddered. Arthur's mouth was right next to his prosthetic, breath flowing across it. 

 

The prince whispered into Emrys's ear. “Well done.”

 

“Thank you, Arthur.”

 

_Decem completum_

_Ten complete_


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will have a rough (very rough) sketch of the crest with it.  
> Also, the amount of Kudos I've gotten on this work is just... wow!!!

_ Hoc, preparationes torneamenti facti sunt. _

_ In this, preparations are made for the tournament. _

 

“Do you swear to protect Camelot with your life, should need arise?”

 

“I do, sire.” 

 

“Do you swear to protect me, your king, my son, your prince, and my ward, your princess, at all costs?”

 

“I do, sire.”

 

“Do you swear to love and protect the people of Camelot as your kin?”

 

“I do, sire.”

 

Though Uther was speaking to him, Emrys couldn't help it when his eyes flickered to Arthur, catching those of the prince for a second. Arthur's eyes were sparkling with pride for his friend, and a smile twitched at the corners of his mouth. Emrys tore his attention away from the prince and returned it to the king.

 

Uther brought the sword down on Emrys's shoulder, his other, and finally on the crown of his head. “You have shown incredible valor in the face of danger. I know you to be an honourable soul, and now the whole of Camelot will share this knowledge. Now rise, Sir Merlin, knight of Camelot.”

 

Emrys rose gracefully to his feet and bowed to his king, then to Arthur, then turned around and bowed to the hall. 

 

The hall exploded into cheers and applause, but the only person Emrys really cared to see stood behind him.

  
  


Arthur felt like a creep watching Merlin from across the hall. His friend was standing with Guinevere, chatting about who-knew-what. Morgana stood next to the prince, talking about… something. However, he couldn't focus on her.

 

Merlin looked even better than he had at the ceremony the week before. Contrary to what Arthur had thought, the new knight looked fantastic in red. The scarlet jerkin brought some colour to his cheeks for once, and his eyes seemed to be the same silver as his gleaming chainmail. The prince wanted to walk across the room, tell Merlin how good he looked, and then maybe spend some time with him. Celebrate his victory…

 

His thoughts’ more inappropriate turn was interrupted by a sharp elbow to the ribs. Arthur snapped back to reality, glaring at Morgana.

 

“What the hell is wrong with you?!”

 

Morgana scowled at Arthur, looking ready to kill. “You haven't listened to a thing I've said all night! May I ask why you're staring across the room at my lady's maid?”

 

“At your lady's maid? No! I've known Gwen for so long- she's a friend, but not-”

 

“Then what, pray tell,” interrupted his sister, arms crossed over her chest, “Are you staring at?”

 

Arthur lowered his voice. “I will tell you, but you must promise me not to tell a soul.”

 

She scoffed, shoving him slightly. “And when have I been anything  _ but  _ trustworthy?”

 

“I dunno, how about that time when-” Arthur cut himself off. “Not the point. The truth is, I umm- I have developed a certain… fondness for Merlin.”

 

“Merlin? Your manservant?”

 

Arthur sighed, looking over again to where Merlin and Gwen were talking and laughing. “Yes… but I think he has affections for Gwen.”

 

Morgana laughed at her brother's comment. “Arthur, have you not seen how he looks at you?” 

 

She only laughed harder at the prince's confused look. “The boy's mad for you Arthur, but you two are too blind to realize it.”

 

However, despite all of his wealth, power, military skill, and Morgana's encouragement, Arthur Pendragon could still not get up the nerves to cross the hall.

  
  


On the other side of the room, Emrys and Gwen had resumed the talk they'd begun at the banquet a few weeks prior. Earlier in the evening, Gwen had caught the elf staring at Arthur again. She had, again, offered to trade a secret for a secret.

 

“I'll tell you who's caught my eye if you tell me who's got yours, Merlin.”

 

Emrys had many strong points, but he was helplessly curious. He  _ had  _ to know. Gwen was his friend, and there could always be a time when he needed a wingman- erm- wing woman. “Alright, Gwen. Who?”

 

Gwen leaned in before whispering under her breath. “The lady Morgana.”

 

“Lady Morgana?”

 

“Yes,” Gwen said, sighing. “I've known her for so long. She's as kind and intelligent as she is beautiful. Look at her now- she'll be a great queen someday.” She gestured across the room, to where Arthur and Morgana were now talking avidly.

 

Emrys couldn't stop a small “No!” from slipping out.

 

Gwen looked to him affronted. “I hope so. I've already accepted that I have no chance with her, so I will stand by as her friend and pray she'll be happy. Although, I can't think of  _ anyone _ who'd want to marry Arthur, can you?” She sent a joking smile to Emrys, who had found himself caught up in watching the prince talking to Morgana.

 

He wrenched his gaze away from the prince when he noticed her look. “What? Yes- no- err- what was the question?”

 

“I was just talking about how I don't know anyone who'd want to marry Arthur, but you were too busy staring at him to notice!” 

 

Emrys blushed at this, trying to recover some dignity. “I was just… checking his clothes. Don't want to be caught off guard by any dry food stains later, you know?”

 

“Merlin, admit it.” Gwen looked to him with nothing but seriousness in her eyes. “You care about him, and only an idiot couldn't see how he feels about you. Just try to talk to him later.”

 

However, despite all of his magic, power, supposedly royal blood, and Gwen's encouragement, Emrys Merlin Ambrosius could still not get up the nerves to cross the hall.

  
  


A week later, Emrys was beginning to wonder what had changed. He was still Arthur's servant, he still did chores, and he still went to knight's practice. However, the whole world felt different. It felt as if a storm of danger was brewing on the horizon. 

 

It was probably nerves.

 

The Camelot Tournament was coming up, and as a new knight, Emrys was expected to participate. He would be facing against all of the other knights of the land, including, unfortunately, Arthur.

 

Actually, it was definitely nerves. Emrys was bloody terrified.

 

He was currently helping a group of servants erect the scoreboard by the stadium. Twenty slots, and one of them was his.

 

Wait.

  
  


“Arthur!” Emrys exclaimed, bursting into the prince's chambers. “What about a crest?”

 

Arthur looked up from the pile of papers on his desk with irritation on his face. “Merlin, have you ever learned how to knock?”

 

“Sorry, sire. I was just wondering- what'll we do for my crest in the tournament? Every knight must wear one.”

 

The prince steepled his fingers, contemplating. “Head down to the court genealogist, Merlin, and see if he can't help you dream one up.”

 

Emrys turned to leave, but Arthur called him back again. “Not  _ now,  _ Merlin, I need your help.”

 

“Yes Arthur?”

 

“I'm in the tournament too, you know. I'm going to need you to polish my sword, armour and chain mail, wash my clothes, shine my boots, and prepare my dinner. Remember I'll need my formal wear for the feast before the final day of the tournament.”

 

“Of course, sire.” Emrys’s smile was sarcastic as he walked around the room, gathering the laundry and spare pieces of armour.

 

“So, are you nervous?”

 

Arthur scoffed. “A prince doesn't get nervous,  _ Mer _ lin, you're just a girl.”

 

Emrys jumped to grab a shirt that had (somehow) found its way into the hangings of Arthur's bed. “I never said I was nervous; just trying to make conversation.”

 

“ _ Sure _ , Merlin.”

  
  


As it happened, Emrys didn't have time to see the genealogist that day. This was fortunate, because fate had an important message for him as he slept.

 

_ “Emrys…” A voice echoed through the dark void of the elf's thoughts. “You must be wary, Emrys. Enemies come for your destiny… and you must protect him…” _

 

_ He cried out into the darkness, but felt as if no sound was produced. “Who are you? What do you mean?” _

 

_ “Arthur will soon face a threat, Emrys. You must keep him from it, though not at the risk of your own life. You, too, are precious.” _

 

_ Satisfied, he felt content to drift in the void until he woke, but it had one more thing for him.  _

 

_ “This shall be your insignia, Emrys. Bear it proudly, as it is a sign that will see the birth of a nation.” _

 

_ An image flashed before Emrys's eyes, and he woke up. _

 

The court genealogist turned out to be an amiable old man by the name of Geoffrey. He greeted Emrys kindly before pulling out a massive book from behind the desk. 

 

“Now, Sir Merlin, let's get to work on your crest. Do you have any ideas for what you would like depicted?”

 

“Oh- yes I do.” Even after a week, Emrys was very unused to having people call him “Sir.” He quickly sketched a rough draft of the image cemented in his head on a spare piece of paper. “The scroll says ‘So that he might fly.’ I figured it would be fitting, as that's why I became a knight.”

 

The shield shaped design bore some things of understanding- the flying dragon represented Arthur Pen _ dragon,  _ the sword was military skill, and the staff was magical skill. He had some questions of his own: why was the sword inscribed with words from the Old Religion, and how did the voice in his dream think he could pass off a magical staff as something else? Where did the staff even come from? 

 

“It's lovely. If I may, why the staff?” Geoffrey's benign smile was nonthreatening, but the question terrified the elf. What was he supposed to say- ‘ _ Oh yes, I'm an elven warlock and I'm using my gifts to protect the prince. Oh yeah, and I'm apparently a prince in my own right’ _ ?

 

Emrys thought furiously, explaining all of the different symbols in order before answering. “... and the staff represents diplomacy. I've heard of the sceptres some rulers bore, and I know that strength is not entirely in swords…”

 

“A capital decision! If you ask me, I believe we may use swords a little too much. King Uther will eventually learn what you so clearly understand at your young age.”

 

Emrys smiled at the praise but decided to excuse himself before Geoffrey asked any more questions. “I'm very sorry, but I must be going, sir. Prince Arthur will need me in his chambers soon.”

 

Geoffrey bid him adieu, and Emrys left.

  
  


Arthur had actually given him the day off because of his meeting with Geoffrey, so Emrys decided to go take a stroll around town. Why not? His pension as a knight was rather grand, and he also had those fifty gold pieces from saving Arthur. He had some spending money.

 

Camelot knights had to wear their uniforms when out in the city, so as to indicate them to anyone in need of assistance. Emrys pulled on his scarlet jerkin, fastened on his FoC brooch, tied his sword belt (with his money bag) around his waist, and set off to town.

 

In preparation for the tournament, Camelot was busier than he had ever seen it. Knights would be coming from all over the realm, seeking lodging and supplies. Some were arriving even now, two days before the fighting even began.

 

Emrys bought a mug of cold cider from a vendor across the main street before sitting down and watching the people go by. Suddenly, a person sat next to him. 

 

The man, dressed in a yellow jerkin with an insignia of three snakes on it, turned to the elf. “I'm assuming you're a Camelot knight,” he said in a gruff, low voice. “Will you be in the tournament?”

 

“I will, what about you?” The stranger gave Emrys bad vibes, but he would return the man's politeness. The stranger had done no wrong to him. 

 

“I will as well. My eye is set firmly on the highest prize, though if every contestant is as lovely as yourself I might find myself going easy on my opponents.”

 

Emrys found himself blushing furiously as the man got up and walked away, but his thoughts were repeating a phrase he was quite used to at this point.

 

_ What the hell just happened? _

 

_ Undecim completum. _

_ Eleven complete _


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One note: I'm dividing the tournament into three days, with a feast at the end of each. The feast they usually talk about in this is the closing feast that's dedicated to the victor.

_ Hoc, tourneamentum incipit.  _

_ In this, the tournament begins. _

 

As Emrys checked Arthur’s armour for the third time, a voice sounded from behind him. 

 

“Ah, the lovely knight from earlier! What a pleasure to see you here.”

 

The elf wheeled, finding himself face-to-face with the yellow clothed stranger from earlier. He extended his hand in a friendly greeting. “O-oh! Hello. Have you already signed into the tournament?” 

 

The yellow knight grasped his hand and pulled it up to his lips, lightly kissing it. Emrys felt his cheeks turn bright red. Arthur scoffed next to him, but the stranger paid no heed. “Indeed I have- are you prepared for the first fight today?”

 

“I am; I don’t yet know who I’m fighting, but I’ve been trained by the best.” Emrys used his now free hand to indicate Arthur. “I’m assuming you know prince Arthur-- I’m Merlin, by the way.”

 

“Merlin…” the strange knight said, dragging out the name into a sort of prayer. “I am Valiant. I hope you will watch me from the stands; your good thoughts will bring me luck.”

 

At this point, an egg could be fried on Emrys’s face.

 

Valiant then bowed, and excused himself. “I’m sorry, I must get ready. Will I see you at the feast tonight?”

 

“Uh… yes, I think so. Good luck in the tournament, Valiant!”

 

Arthur was glowering by the time Valiant turned away, and had something to say once the knight was out of earshot. “What a creep!”

 

“He didn’t do anything wrong, Arthur!” Emrys said, smacking him on the arm. “You can be too quick to judge sometimes; Valiant has been nothing but polite since we met. I sure couldn’t say that about you.”

 

The elf walked off, leaving a fuming (and very jealous) prince behind him.

  
  


The first fight of the day was Arthur’s. He was up against a tall man from one of the coastal cities, who had looked to Emrys like an intimidating opponent. However, the man’s fighting technique turned out to be about half showboating and half talent. Arthur took him down quickly, and advanced to the next round.

 

The next duel was between two men Emrys didn’t know, with a turbaned man with dual swords advancing. The fight was interesting, and the elf prince made sure to study his possible future opponent’s style.

 

Next up was Valiant.

 

He was up against a kind-looking, purple clad knight, and Emrys was slightly embarrassed to admit that he was very anxious. As usual, they circled each other for a moment before Valiant attacked.

 

They seemed decently matched; the two knights matched each other swing for swing. However, the unnamed knight's foot caught in a small hole, and he stumbled. Valiant took the advantage quickly.

 

He broke through the purple knight's guard brutally, driving the man back. The knight was soon pinned under Valiant, most of his body blocked by the yellow knight's.

 

Then Valiant stood up, and his adversary did not. He had won.

  
  


Arthur watched with untold amounts of jealousy as Merlin applauded the creep, Valiant. He hadn't celebrated  _ Arthur's  _ win like that, no, just Valiant's. 

 

He knew he had a rather large degree of attraction to his servant/bodyguard/fellow knight, but he really needed to calm down! Merlin was free to be interested in other men!

 

Not to mention, Merlin had been right earlier. Arthur hadn't been nearly kind enough to him to deserve his affections.

 

But he couldn't help feeling green with envy as Merlin waved to Valiant from the stands. 

  
  


It was now Emrys's turn to fight, and he thought he was about to faint. His opponent was a knight with an orange and blue jerkin. Not the most beautiful colour combination, but that wasn't important. Emrys was a bit more focused on the greatsword he held.

 

The most important part of this fight was going to be honour. This was Emrys's first fight in front of a large crowd; he had to prove himself worthy of being a knight. 

 

He tightened his grasp on his rapier, allowing his hand to mold into the already worn leather, enjoying the balance of the blade. It looked so delicate, yet it was strong. He doubted it could hold up to the greatsword at top speed though…

 

Uther counted them off, and the fight began.

 

Emrys and the orange knight circled each other, looking for any unevenness in the other's stance. The elf's eyes carefully documented every step. There was always some kind of indicator for when someone would attack. Where was it?

 

There!

 

The man's foot moved backwards, getting ready to push him forward. He came charging forwards, sword held in a double handed grip. He made a broad horizontal swipe, enough to cleave a man in two, and hit… nothing. 

 

Emrys dropped down low enough that his nose was level with the man's knees. He swept a foot forward, looped his ankle around his adversary's, and brought him down. Emrys was back on his feet before the knight hit the ground, sword point on his chest.

 

The crowd exploded into cheers, and Emrys offered the knight a hand up.

 

The man smiled, and they walked off of the field together. “Well done, Sir Merlin.”

 

“Sorry, I don't know your name…”

 

“Oh- I'm Sir Trevan. I heard about your brave rescue of Prince Arthur; imagine my excitement when I found I would be fighting you! You're very talented.” Trevan removed his helmet to reveal a boyish, freckled face and bright red hair. “Well, I guess I'll see you around!”

 

Emrys bid him adieu and turned around, only to come chest to chest with Valiant. 

 

“Hello again, Valiant!”

 

The yellow knight smiled to Emrys. “Well done in your fight, Merlin. You finished him fast.”

 

“Oh, thank you! You did fantastically as well…” Emrys was actually a little afraid of Valiant's fighting- he was very brutal- but he wasn't going to tell him that. “Any way, I must go help my master tend to the wounded, but I hope to see you at the feast!”

 

Valiant smiled even wider, and he kissed the elf's hand again before leaving.

 

Immediately after Valiant's departure, Arthur appeared. “Well done, Merlin. That was an elegant trick you pulled, there.”

 

Although his stance and speech were casual, Emrys felt like Arthur was nervous about something. “What's the matter, Arthur? You're nervous.”

 

“Umm, you see, I was wondering if you'd like tocomewithmetothefeasttonightasadate?”

 

“What?”

 

The prince took a deep breath in and began again. “I was wondering if you'd like to come with me to the feast as a date?”

 

“As a date?” Emrys found himself blushing brightly. (Arthur felt pleased when he saw that Merlin was far redder than any time Valiant was around.)

 

Though he pretended to be thinking about it, Emrys had decided on his answer immediately. “Sure!”

  
  


The last fights went quickly; Emrys and Arthur watched them together to scout opponents and compare notes. 

 

“That bear of a man's pretty strong,” Arthur muttered to Emrys, “But he's slow. You or I could easily take him.”

 

The elf nodded, enjoying the feeling of being together with Arthur. “Better you than me though- if he got even one hit on me, I'd be dead meat.”

 

“I always forget what a girl you are, Merlin,” Arthur joked, shoving his friend.

 

“Rather a girl than a prat!”

  
  


Emrys was almost getting bored of feasts in the great hall. Two in the past month had been celebrating him, and the other one had ended with Daphinia's attack. 

 

He was not, however, bored of the outfits Arthur wore to the feasts. 

 

Arthur had invited him to stand next to him as he greeted people, so Emrys had plenty of time to admire the prince. 

 

His outfit was the usual; red jerkin, chain mail, crown; but there was something about him today. He shone in the light of the candles like a young god, basking in the world around him.

 

Perhaps it was the tournament.

 

Perhaps it was Emrys's growing feelings for him. 

 

He was yanked out of his thoughts and quiet spying by a familiar voice. “Hello Merlin. How are you enjoying the feast?”

 

Valiant had appeared and made his way down the line of greeting. As per his usual, he kissed Emrys's hand. Somehow, the elf didn't feel as affected as he had before.

 

“I was unfortunate to not have found you earlier. I would have invited you to the feast, but it seems I was beaten.” He looked over slightly, to where Arthur was silently glowering a couple meters away. “The prince seems none too fond of me.”

 

Emrys was compelled to defend Arthur (though he didn't really know why). “Oh no, Arthur's just nervous about you. He saw your fighting in the tournament and thinks he might lose his title.”

 

“Well, that might be an issue now. You see, I have no intention of losing the tournament. At the ending feast, I hope you will do me the honour of being on my arm for the evening.”

 

He kissed the elf's hand one last time before departing. 

 

Again, Emrys didn't feel as affected as before.

  
  


Arthur was so, so jealous. Merlin found Valiant interesting; he blushed at the knight's compliments! Every time he thought of the delicate pink his servant flushed, he found himself incredibly irritated.

 

He would have to up his game to match that shade- no way he'd let some creepy knight steal Merlin away from him.

  
  


Emrys ended up excusing himself from the feast early; Gaius probably needed him to help treat any remaining injuries. He hadn't been able to help much recently thanks to his new status as a knight, but he would do what he could.

 

He came into the room to find the physician caring for the knight in purple that Valiant had fought. 

 

“Hey Gaius, what's the matter?” 

 

The old man looked up from his patient and smiled. “Ah- hello, Merlin. You've come at a fortunate time. I need your help.”

 

Emrys came forward, dropping to a crouch next to the bed. “What's the matter?”

 

“Sir Owain is completely comatose. From all of my observation of his symptoms, I can only conclude that he has been poisoned by a snake bite. If you look here, you can even find marks that resemble fangs.”

 

“But that makes no sense! Owain was battling Valiant at the time; how could he have been bitten by a snake?”

 

“Exactly the problem,” Gaius sighed, turning back to the patient. “We may end up having to use more… illegal means to help him.”

 

“You're talking about using magic?” Emrys couldn't believe his pointy ears; was Gaius actually suggesting the use of magic?

 

Gaius nodded in reply. “I have one more medicinal cure to try, but otherwise, we shall use magic. A man's life is worth more than a law.”

 

“Alright- what's the final medicinal option?” Emrys was excited about the chance to use magic, but the fear of being killed by the king outweighed it. 

 

“I can concoct an antidote from the venom of the snake that bit him, but we shall need magic for that too,” Gaius said. “You must use a tracking spell to find it. The breed is exotic; it will be the only snake of its kind in Camelot.”

 

Emrys nodded. He excused himself and headed up to his room, grabbing his magic books. Which one was most likely to have a tracking spell?

 

An hour later, he had found the perfect one. There were many tracking spells available, but most required a personal thing of the being, or only worked on humans. Emrys blessed his lucky star that he had found a non-personal one. Technically, this was for finding misplaced items, but you just needed to think about the basics of what you searched. 

 

He sat cross legged on his bed, and began the incantation. “ _ Calad si gannu perolk toj kor, calad si gannu perolk toj kor, calad si gannu perolk toj kor _ .”

 

Thank Goddess, it worked. A spectral snake plopped onto the floor in front of him. It was the bare basics of a snake since he hadn't had much information, but it would find its target. It set off, and Emrys gave chase behind it. 

 

He raced through the castle, coming to a stop with the snake right outside of the armoury. He was about to walk in when he heard something inside. It sounded like a hiss; Emrys ducked and peeked through the keyhole.

 

Inside was a scene that shocked him. Valiant was inside, resting his shield on the bench. Above it he held a struggling mouse, letting the three snakes protruding from the shield toy with it. 

 

He dropped the mouse into one of their open mouths and laughed. “I dunno where you keep all those mice, but as long as you keep crippling my opponents, I find I don't care!”

 

Emrys gasped, and Valiant turned his head toward the door. The elf prayed that the knight would just ignore it, but Valiant stood and approached. 

 

_ Damn it.  _

 

Thinking fast, Emrys cast quick illusion spell over himself, turning into a small cart. The trick would fool Valiant unless the knight touched him, in which case his hand would go right through the “cart.”

 

Valiant, emerging from the armoury, checked the corridor to the right and left. Appearing satisfied with his privacy, he went in, leaving Emrys faint with relief. 

 

He heard a bit more hissing inside the room, then Valiant's gruff voice telling them to go to sleep. The cheating knight then left the room, turned down the corridor, and was gone.

 

Emrys cancelled the illusion and crept inside the room. He crossed to the shield, crouching down to see it better. Nothing looked off about it- just an average shield. The snakes were fairly lifelike and colourful, but they weren't alive.

 

Then one of them blinked.

 

Emrys was on his feet, drawing his sword in a flash. He pointed it at the shield and poked it. However, when no response came, he sighed. 

 

It would seem they only came out when Valiant was around; he was wasting his time. 

 

The prince turned to leave, walking towards the door. However, he caught a flash movement in one of the shields against the wall. One of the snakes had emerged, and was slowly advancing on him.

 

Not giving it a moment to strike, Emrys whirled, slicing broadly through the air. His blade cut cleanly through the snake, and its severed head fell to the ground.

 

Not anxious to become personally acquainted with their specific kind of venom, he wrapped his hand in his cape and picked up the head. He made a small bundle out of the head and the fabric, nestling it securely in the small bag he had brought with him. Then, after checking if the coast was clear, Emrys left the armoury, Owain’s salvation in hand.

 

_ Duodecim completum _

_ Twelve complete _


	13. Chapter 13

_Hoc, primum besum occurat._

_In this, the first kiss occurs._

Gaius carefully opened Owain's lips, allowing the potion to slip down his throat. When the bottle was empty, the old man sat back on his chair and sighed. “I don't know if this is going to work, Merlin. It might take up to three days for the potion to take effect.”

“What? By that time, Arthur could be dead!” Emrys grasped his hair in his hands, and began to pace. “The finals are in two days! If Owain can't prove Valiant is using magic, there's nothing we can do! I'm a new knight, and a common-born one! I don't have a house- my opinion is only valued slightly more than the average serving girl! I can't tell Arthur, because he wouldn't believe me, and-” He cut himself off suddenly.

Gaius concernedly looked to his ward. “Is something the matter, Merlin?”

“That's it…” Emrys muttered. “If I can't make them believe in the snakes, I'll make them see the snakes for themselves!”

“What?” 

But Emrys was already dashing off, running for his magic books.

__  
  


The next day was equally as pleasant as the first, as if the Goddess was personally opposed to the idea of hindering a Camelot tournament. Emrys's mood was anything but balmy, thanks to his absence of sleep the night before. He wasn't too fatigued, but he certainly was cranky.

There had been eight fights the day before, so there would be another four that day. The final day of the tournament would have three fights: two semi-finals and a final. Emrys had formed a full plan- he would have two chances to reveal Valiant: one today and one tomorrow. 

The first fight today was Arthur's. He was up against the big bear of a man they had observed yesterday, and the prince wasn't to worried. Naturally, Emrys was.

He was about to start quadruple checking Arthur's armour when the prince stopped him. “Merlin, stop being so nervous. I'm not going off to war.”

Emrys heaved a deep breath. “I know, Arthur… I care for you, and don't want to see you get hurt…”

Arthur turned bright red, and let a small smile grace his features. “I won't get hurt. I swear on my knight's honour. Can you stop worrying now?”

“Okay.”

Emrys's residual worry must have shown in his eyes though, because a moment later, warm lips brushed his cheek. He gasped in surprise, looking at Arthur's eyes, now so close. 

“I'll be fine, Merlin. See you soon.”

Arthur departed, leaving Emrys blushing furiously and holding his cheek.

__  
  


Arthur lived up to his promise- he finished the big man with not a scratch on his body. He stepped off the field to the cheering of the crowd, but was almost thrown off balance by a shoulder colliding with his. Valiant had been walking out and had purposely shoved the prince. 

The preserve the respect and honour integral to the tournament, Arthur didn't shove back. (There were no rules against wishing that he had.)

He found Merlin leaning against one of the walls of the stadium, and joined him. “I kept my promise, Merlin.”

Merlin looked up at the prince and smiled. “That you did, Arthur. Try to avoid breaking it for the rest of the tournament, okay?” 

Arthur grinned back at his friend. “I'll try my best.”

The trumpet sounded, and the two focused their attention back on the ring. The double sword bearing man from before was facing off against Valiant. Arthur fixed his eyes on the snake-bearing knight; there was a high possibility that they would fight in the future, and he wanted to be prepared. 

When he turned to Merlin to tell him to mostly pay attention to Valiant as well, the knight was gone. 

__  
  


Emrys had snuck away from Arthur when the fight began. He found an empty area of the stadium where he wouldn't be interrupted, and began to try to expose the knight for who he was. 

“ _ Babai adothai elyssan quicken babai adothai elyssan quicken babai adothai elyssan quicken...” _ He encanted the spell over and over, but the shield was moving too fast to hit. Then, all of a sudden, the double-sworded man was disarmed, and the fight was over. Emrys cursed.

One chance gone, one more left. 

Emrys had no more time to think about it now- he was up. He headed back over to Arthur.

“Sorry! I suddenly had to go to the bathroom- what did I miss?”

Arthur laughed. “Honestly, Merlin, you have the worst timing! Valiant won, and it looks like I'll be fighting him next round.”

Emrys cursed internally, damming his luck. “Okay. I need you to remember to keep your promise, though.”

“I will, provided you return it.”

The elf blushed brightly, making a brash decision. He closed the distance between them quickly and brushed his lips against Arthur's cheek. Then, following what the prince had did before, Emrys turned and entered the arena. 

_ Tredecim completum _

_ Thirteen complete _


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so to clarify this version of the tournament:  
> Three days of competition with eight fights on the first day, then four on the next. The last day is the semi-finals and finals. Emrys sees himself as only having two chances because he isn't going to risk Arthur ever going up against Valiant.

_ Hoc, Samsid apparat. _

_ In this, Samsid appears. _

 

He was to fight one of the less conventional knights in the competition- the man fought with a trident and net. (Emrys supposed he was also one of them; the rapier was not a common weapon.)

 

When the trumpets started them off, Emrys's opponent quickly slung the net at his legs. The elf thanked his reflexes as he danced back. The net was still on the ground, so he took the advantage. He quickly stepped onto it, the additional weight making the knight drop the net. 

 

One obstacle successfully discarded, Emrys lowered his centre of gravity and launched a full offensive. Fighting a trident was hard; the three points stabbed and made parrying hard, and the back end would occasionally swing up like a quarterstaff. Thankfully, the elf adapted easily.

 

He sidestepped another jab of the trident and, like so many other times, took advantage of his opponent's shift of weight to catch him off balance. He pivoted and grabbed the shaft of the trident, pulling it so the man was thrown forward even further. 

 

Fully lacking balance now, the knight crashed to the ground. Emrys tapped his sword to his neck. The crowd once again burst into cheers, and the elfin prince was happy to see Arthur cheering in the crowd. He extended his hand to the felled knight and helped him pull himself up.

 

Back on even footing, they removed their helmets and shook hands. 

 

“Nice job,” said the trident knight, shaking out a head of long braids. His voice was deep and smooth, reminding Emrys of his eyes and skin, which were as deep and dark as freshly tilled soil. His face bore a few scars, but they were firmly balanced out with laugh lines by his mouth and eyes. Like most of the other knights Emrys had met, he looked like a man who would make a good friend. 

 

Emrys extended his hand. “Thank you; your performance was also fantastic. I must ask though, where did you learn how to use a trident? It's a fascinating weapon. Oh- I'm Merlin, by the way.”

 

“Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Merlin. My name is Samsid. I learned how to use the trident as a fisherman, before I saved the king's life with it when he was beset by bandits. I was then inducted into knight training.”

 

“So you're a friend of Camelot too?” They left the field together, talking in step.

 

“Nay, I'm from a different country. I'm here as an emissary. King Uther offered me a place in the tournament as an activity for when I'm here.”

 

“Where are you from? Not Mercia, surely?” Samsid's accent seemed far too… melodic to be Mercian. 

 

“I'm from Ailonwyn, though I suppose you have heard little of it.”

 

Emrys's eyes widened, but he quickly hid it. “I've heard of it; I thought it was an Elven kingdom?”

 

“That is, to some degree, true,” Samsid said, coming to rest on one of the benches near the exit. “The Ambrosius family are very tolerant of humans, so you can find many humans and half elves among the elven residents of the land. In fact, the prince of the kingdom is a half elf, though he has been missing since he was conceived. Rumors have it that he's living somewhere in this kingdom.” The darker man let out a short laugh. “Highly doubtful. He wouldn't survive long without hiding his ears. Especially since his father is still alive- he won't’ve been able to glamour them.”

 

“Why wouldn't he be able to glamour them if his father is still alive?” Emrys was practically on the edge of his seat now; they were talking about him!

 

Samsid waved a hand carelessly. “Balinor Ambrosius is the Dragonlord, and Dragonlords only get their power when the previous one dies. Emrys won't have any magic until then.”

 

Something clicked in the elf's head just then, and he grabbed Samsid's arm and ran off, dragging the man behind him. When they were finally back inside the castle, shut in an otherwise empty room, Emrys released him.

 

Samsid staggered back. “If you're going to kill me, I'll remind you that I am a diplomat, and am therefore afforded exterritoriality. If you don't understand the big word, it means I don't have to follow your laws. I am legally allowed to use magic, so you might want to rethink your assassination attempt.”

 

“What?!” Emrys exclaimed, looking at the other knight in astonishment. “You think I brought you here to kill you? No! I need your help.”

 

“Help?” The emissary crossed his arms, looking skeptical. 

 

Taking a long breath in preparation, Emrys reached up to his ears. He pulled the prosthetics off and watched Samsid's eyes widen in shock. 

 

“You-You're an elf!” 

 

“Yes. My name is Emrys.”

 

Samsid's eyebrows rose in suspicion. “You didn't say earlier.”

 

“Well,” Emrys admitted, “It took me a while to realize that you were probably either magical or a magic sympathizer. I grabbed you the second I did.”

  
  


Samsid gazed at the Camelot knight, scrutinizing his features. “Emrys” wore his hair shorter than customary in Ailonwyn, and his pointed ears were slightly more curved at the tips then usual, a result of constantly wearing covers. However, his prominent cheekbones certainly reminded him of the King, as did the sparkling crystal of his blue eyes and his slightly ruffled hair. In fact, everything about him reminded him of the King! He could most certainly be the lost prince.

 

It was good that Samsid had an absolute way of finding out.

 

“Emrys, if that is your name, turn around and remove your shirt.”

 

The elf jumped. “W-what? Why?”

 

“Every member of the Ambrosius family bears a small patch of scales on the lower ridge of their spine. It's a mark of the Dragonlords. If you are whom you say you are, you'll have it.”

 

“Emrys” turned around slowly and pulled his armour off quickly, followed by his gambison and shirt. Samsid breathed out when he saw a faint trickling of dark blue scales trailing down his back. He chuckled. 

 

“So you've been telling the truth… Emrys.”

 

_Quattuordecim completum_

_Fourteen complete_


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

_ Hoc, Emrys necit et cadit seorsus.  _

_ In this, Emrys kills and falls apart. _

 

“Alright,” said Emrys, looking to Samsid. “I need your help. I was raised in a fringe village called Ealdor, and most of my work here in Camelot has been either fighting or serving Art- Prince Arthur. What I’m trying to say is… I have no idea how to rule. I don’t know the culture of Ailonwyn, I hardly know anything about my father, I’m clueless about politics; the only thing I can really do is magic, and apparently I’m not supposed to be able to do that.”

 

Samsid looked to him suddenly. “What do you mean you can do magic?!”

 

“I’ve been able to do magic since before I could walk. I started practicing when it became hard to control, so I’m pretty decent at it. What does that mean?”

 

The emissary was quiet for a while, thinking. “My best guess is that you would have born with magic even if you were human, though we’ll have to visit the Hall of Prophecy when we arrive in Ailonwyn. Such early presenting magic is most likely significant.”

 

“Wait, what do you mean, when  _ we _ arrive in Ailonwyn?” Emrys felt a knot of worry settle in his stomach. “I told you my identity so that you could teach me how to be a royal, not so that I could go there! I have a duty here!”

 

“Duty?”

 

“I’m destined to protect Arthur. Neither of us can survive without the other.” At these words, Samsid looked pensive.

 

“...Alright. Your father is yet young, so you will not be needed on the throne for a long time yet. I will remain here for a while and help educate you in politics, manners, and history. Are you literate?”

 

Emrys frowned, slightly affronted. “Of course- I may be from a small village, but I’m not an idiot!”

 

“Calm down, my prince; I’m not insulting you or your origins.” Samsid’s face was calm as he laid a hand on Emrys’s shoulder. “Anyway, we shall continue this conversation later. I’m sure that Prince Arthur will be looking for you.”

 

“Crap! I disappeared on him!”

 

Yelling a goodbye over his shoulder, Emrys raced out of the room.

  
  


He found Arthur outside of the arena, leaning on the wall in the same area they had been watching from before. 

 

“Arthur! Sorry I disappeared like that; I got scratched by my opponent and went to Gaius immediately!” Emrys jogged up to his friend. 

 

The prince, believing him, smiled. “You alright now, Merlin? You need to be in top shape for tomorrow.”

 

“Yep- it was just a scratch. Anyway… who are you fighting tomorrow again?”

 

Arthur’s face scrunched into a scowl. “I was supposed to fight Valiant, but something changed. Now I’m against the knight with that long sword, and you’re fighting Valiant.”

 

Emrys breathed an unseen sigh of relief. There was no way he could miss Valiant with his spell now!

  
  


Emrys excused himself from the feast that night, preferring to spend some time studying with Samsid. He quickly found that the man was a fantastic teacher, explaining things concisely and understandably. They had been at this for two hours, and the prince thought he already had a decent grasp of Ailonwynian history.

 

“Alright,” decided Samsid, stretching and cracking his back. “I’m tired of history. Let’s start a bit of presentation and etiquette- you’ll need it.”

 

Emrys laughed. “Are you saying I’m uncouth?”

 

“No. I’m saying that if you arrive in court looking like a Camelot knight, elf or not, you’re never going to be accepted as crown prince.”

 

“Oh.” The elf sobered up immediately. “Where do we start?”

 

Samsid smiled to himself; he liked this boy. Emrys was focused and dedicated, with a mind like a steel trap. He had no doubts that the young man would be a great king some day.

 

“First off, the hair.”

 

“What’s wrong with my hair?!”

 

The human sighed deeply. “Nothing, for a Camelot knight. The men of Ailonwyn, especially the royal family, wear their hair long. It is a sign of adulthood. Children, male and female, wear their hair short like yours until a few months before coming of age, which is when they begin to grow it out.”

 

“Why?”

 

“When short, it won’t be caught on branches or get full of dirt. Short hair means that you’re out playing, running wild. A few months prior to coming of age, it begins to grow quickly through magic. It is disrespectful to have hair shorter than chin length when you come of age. As a prince, you will be expected to have hair… at least shoulder length.”

 

Emrys ran a hand through his hair, lamenting the upcoming loss of the lightness. “I come of age in a couple of months; will my hair begin growing soon?”

 

“I suppose,” Samsid said. “I don’t know if there will be a change because of your human ancestry.”

 

“I guess it’s time to stop cutting it, then.”

  
  


Samsid returned to his own chambers a couple of hours later, gaining an odd look from Gaius as he left. The old man wouldn't judge, but he was perfectly able to wonder what Merlin was doing with another man in his chambers when he clearly had the eye of the crown prince!

 

Emrys was exhausted; the adrenaline of fighting and meeting Samsid was finally wearing off. He flopped onto his bed without taking off his clothes and fell fast asleep.

 

He woke up briefly in the middle of the night to a prickling feeling in his scalp but quickly passed out again. 

 

Morning came with the third consecutive day of clear skies and sunshine. Emrys rose and dressed speedily, sauntering down the stairs with a cheerful greeting when he finished. 

 

"'Morning, Gaius!"

 

The old man looked up from chopping herbs to smile at him. "Good morning to you, Merlin. I assume you don't want me to inquire as to why you had a knight in your rooms last night?"

 

The elf's cheeks flamed to the colour of his cape. "It wasn't like that, I swear! Samsid's been telling me about his country! Besides, he's almost forty!"

 

"Ah, well then, I'm sorry for making assumptions. I will remind you though, Arthur might not think the same."

 

"What do you mean?" asked Emrys, the most oblivious elf in the world. 

 

Gaius frowned. "Arthur could jump to conclusions as quickly as I could, Merlin, and I don't think he'd simply tease you about it. His feelings would be very hurt. Also," he said, changing the subject rapidly, "You'll need to get a haircut soon; it's a little shaggy."

 

At those words, the elf rushed to the mirror and looked. Sure enough, his hair had grown about two centimetres in the night. 

  
  


Arthur paced nervously in his chambers as Merlin rushed around, tidying up. The prince was already in armour, and was now just waiting for his friend to finish before they went to the field. 

 

"Merlin, can't you do this later?"

 

"No, Arthur, I can't," Merlin groaned, gathering dirty clothes and placing them in a basket to be collected by the laundry staff. "You see, I could if I was working for some other noble, but I seem to be stuck with one who is innately opposed to the concept of ever putting his clothes in one place!"

 

Arthur laughed loudly, Merlin's joking complaint making him feel far less stressed. "Sorry about that- take as long as you need."

 

"Doth mine ears deceive me, or did Arthur Pendragon just say sorry?"

 

"Your ears couldn't deceive you,  _ Mer _ lin; they're the size of dinner plates."

 

Merlin chuckled at the jab and finally stood up. "Alright, that's enough for now. Thank you for waiting for me, Arthur."

 

The prince smiled and nodded. "Anything for you, Merlin."

 

They both blushed heavily when the reality of what Arthur had said sank in. 

 

"A-anyway," Merlin muttered, "Shall we go down?"

 

Arthur smiled and nodded, and the pair left the room. 

  
  


The crowd at the arena was the largest of the three days; it was the final round, after all. The increase in attendees also probably had something to do with the food offered to all who attended in celebration of the completion of the tournament. The stands were packed to the brim, and the noise was deafening, especially for Emrys. He winced as he, Arthur, Valiant, and the final knight all stepped onto the field. 

 

Uther stood from his seat in the stands to address them. “Sir Arthur, Sir Valiant, Sir Merlin, and Sir Terrick, you four are the semifinalists in this tournament.” He paused to allow the crowd to cheer. “You have shown honour and capability, and I see now that all of you certainly deserve your titles as knights. The final duel shall begin in five minutes, between Arthur and Terrick!”

 

The four knights departed the field to even more cheers. As they leant against the wall of the stands, Emrys snuck a look at Arthur from the corner of his eye, seeing the prince’s face to be blank and determined. 

 

“Are you alright, Arthur?” 

 

Arthur blinked a few times, realizing that someone was speaking to him. “Ah- yes! I’m preparing myself for the fight; Sir Terrick is very skilled.”

 

“Is that all you’re worried about?” Emrys exclaimed. “You will win, Arthur, I am sure of it! Prince or not, you are the best fighter in the land. You will not fail.”

 

“Thank you, my friend.” The prince reached out and clasped the elf’s hand, smiling. “I will see you in a moment.”

 

Emrys smiled as he watched Arthur take the field.

  
  


Arthur bowed to Sir Terrick, and the knight in blue bowed back. They then looked to Uther, who nodded. The trumpet rang, and the knights began to circle each other.

 

Arthur had been observing Terrick; he was a cautious fighter who liked to gauge his opponents’ weaknesses before striking. Therefore, the prince’s job was to get the jump on the other. The longsword he held also threw an additional variable into the mix. 

 

From what he had seen, Terrick’s big weakness was his slow speed. His reflexes were fantastic, his strength was superior to many, but he was heavy on his feet. He wasn’t the kind who could hold up against someone far faster than him. He would have been a perfect adversary for Merlin, Arthur thought.

 

The prince flew at Terrick with a full frontal attack. The first swipe was deflected by his opponent’s sword; the next slammed off of his shield. The shield buckled slightly, but no other damage was made. Arthur didn’t retreat, rather pivoting and dealing a blow to the plated armour on Terrick’s back. 

 

The other knight stumbled this time, but was able to turn and lunge at the prince again. They continued at it, strength against strength, speed against swift deflects, footwork against stolid footing, offense against defense. Though they seemed evenly matched, a discerning eye could tell that Terrick was tiring, and his shield was near breaking.

 

The fight was ended when an unexpected angle on a jab from Arthur knocked the sword out of Terrick’s hand. 

 

Or so many thought.

 

As Arthur turned to face the stands and his father, the other knight grabbed a dagger from a hidden slot in his armour. He lunged towards the prince, yelling out a battle cry. 

 

Emrys shot forward. “Arthur, behind you!”

 

However, even Arthur Pendragon could not move that fast. Thankfully, just as had happened on the night of Daphinia’s attack, Emrys’s magic acted without his command, and the world slowed. He moved almost inhumanly fast, drawing his sword as he ran. Arthur whirled to see Emrys to almost miraculously appear behind Terrick. 

 

Blood spattered as the elf drove his sword through the knight’s back. Terrick stood still a moment, touching the tip of the blade the now protruded from his stomach in a haze. Then his knees buckled, and he fell to the ground.

 

Emrys looked down at the body of the man he had killed stunned. He had killed someone. He had never… 

 

“Oh Goddess, what have I done?” His question was a strangled whisper. He had killed Daphinia, but not with his own two hands. This made it personal. The blood was on his sword, on his body, on his hands, on his heart. He dropped to his knees, desperately trying to wipe the redness away. It was everywhere- the world swam before his eyes.

 

Suddenly, he was pulled out of the fog. A hand had appeared on his shoulder. Emrys followed the hand up to the wrist, to the arm, to the shoulder, to the face of his friend. Arthur stood above him, unharmed.

 

Arthur crouched down next to him, keeping the hand on his shoulder. “Merlin, you didn’t have to do that.” 

 

The dam that had been holding Emrys’s tears back broke, and he fell forward into Arthur’s arms. As his body became wracked with sobs, the prince held him. 

 

They stayed there, Emrys wrapped in his friend’s arms on the sand. His mind and eyes cleared after a while, and he pulled away. Arthur privately mourned the loss of warmth. 

 

The elf stood up and pulled Arthur to his feet. Unnoticed by the two as they had embraced, the corpse had been removed. Uther rose to his feet, and the crowd quieted. 

 

“Sir Merlin of Camelot, I know now that you are truly deservant of the two titles I have bestowed upon you. I will not allow this act to go unrewarded.”

 

Emrys shook his head. “I won’t take any reward for killing another, sire. Please don’t make me.”

 

“Well, then,” Uther conceded, “If that is what you wish.” He now turned again to address the crowd. “We will have a one hour recess, then the second fight of the day shall commence!”

 

Arthur scowled at the announcement, but could not question his father’s decisions in public. Instead, he wrapped an arm around his friend’s shoulders and led Merlin off the field.

  
  


Once they were off, however, Arthur slammed his fist into the wall. “How DARE he make you fight Valiant after this?! You can’t fight him! You need time to recover! I took a few days to get over the first time I killed someone- you deserve the same!”

 

Emrys bowed his head, laden with guilt that he couldn’t even tell his friend the truth. He  _ had _ killed someone before, but he had never even felt guilty. He dropped a chandelier on Daphinia and watched her expire- how dare he only regret murder now? 

 

Another thought hit him at the speed of sound. Samsid had seen this. He had seen his prince commit murder; what would he think? He would leave. He would go back and tell Emrys’s father that his son was evil, that he had killed a man in cold blood. 

 

He was evil, a  _ monster _ . Just like he had always feared.

 

Emrys didn’t even realize that he was crying again until Arthur rewrapped him in a hug. 

  
  


Arthur kept up a litany of ' _ it’s okay, it wasn’t your fault'  _ as he stroked Merlin’s hair, letting him weep. This was the kind of support he had wanted the first time he had killed. Instead, his father had told him to get used to it. 

 

He would not let Merlin get used to it. His friend was too compassionate, too caring for the cruel world he faced. He wouldn’t let Merlin be scarred by the things a knight’s life threw at him. It was a fool’s hope, but Arthur would let himself be a fool for now.

 

When Merlin’s tremors and tears calmed, Arthur was the one to pull back this time. He looked deep into his friend’s eyes, appreciating the light he saw there. They were still damp with tears, but there was strength shining in them. Arthur didn’t even notice himself leaning in at first.

 

And then, warmth.

 

Such warmth.

 

_ Quindecim completum _

_ Fifteen complete _


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm going away for three weeks, but enjoy a long chapter in apology for my absence!

_ Hoc, tourneamentum completum factum est. _

_ In this, the tournament ends. _

 

They parted soon after, both quiet. Emrys’s cheeks were still wet with tears, but all thoughts of what he had just done were gone. All he could do was look into Arthur’s eyes, enjoying the hue. The prince held his gaze gently.

 

They were leaning in again when the trumpets burst through their haze. Emrys jumped up, grabbing his sword and helmet. However, Arthur stopped him before he could leave the tent.

 

“Merlin! Wait!”

 

The elf turned back around. “Yes, Arthur?”

 

The prince shot up off of the ground and wrapped his friend in one last embrace, leaving a kiss on his forehead. “Don’t get hurt.”

 

“I’ll try.” They shared a smile, and Emrys walked into the arena to meet Valiant.

  
  


The fight began in the same way; Valiant and Emrys bowed to each other, then they looked to Uther. He nodded them, and that was where similarities with the previous fight ended.

 

Valiant wasted no time attacking, pressing his opponent under blows so rapid and so strong that Emrys found his shield cracking. The elf found himself pressed to the ground. All he needed was a moment of peace to perform the spell, but could he get it?

 

He kicked his legs up, sending Valiant over his head. The knight crashed to the ground on his side but got up quickly. Thankfully, it gave Emrys enough time to get to his feet as well. Valiant scowled over at him and charged again. He had obviously banged his side in the fall, but it wasn’t enough to stop him.

 

Valiant initiated his rapid attack pattern again, but Emrys found an opportunity. Throwing caution to the wind, he locked his blade with Valiant’s and looked at the shield. 

 

“ _ Babai adothai elyssan quicken!”  _ Emrys hissed out. His eyes flashed gold, and Valiant’s shield came to life. The elf then quickly disengaged from their sword-lock, accidentally disarming himself in the process.

 

The crowd gasped as two snakes emerged from the knight’s shield. Valiant looked at them in shock. “What are you doing? I didn’t summon you!” He whirled to Emrys. “It was  _ you! _ You used magic! But what does that matter if you’re going to be dead in a second?” He turned his attention back to the snakes. “Kill him.”

 

In the stands, Uther was calling for guards. 

 

The snakes slithered towards the elf, who jumped backwards. He was unarmed, and any help was too far away. 

 

Or at least, any help from a conventional corner.

 

His head whipped around as he heard Morgana call his name. She had seized the sword from the belt of the man next to her, and hurled it to him the moment he turned. Emrys caught it, pivoting and slicing the heads off of the snakes in one blow. 

 

Valiant charged for him, but quickly found himself facing a new adversary. A blond, royal one, to be specific. 

 

Arthur attacked with the ferocity of a dragon; Valiant lost his sword and his life in the span of time it took to blink. The prince roughly pulled his blade from the traitorous knight’s stomach and wiped it on his cloak. 

 

The crowd cheered its loudest as Arthur sheathed his sword and faced the stands again. Uther this time didn’t even bother standing up; he addressed the two princes sitting. “So, Knight Valiant was using sorcery. I congratulate you both for your bravery and strength, and again, I will grant a short recess before the final round.”

 

However, Emrys had something to say now. “Pardon me, sire, but I do not believe I am currently able to fight.”

 

“Whatever do you mean, Sir Merlin?” Uther’s eyes narrowed. 

 

“Well,” said Emrys, now swaying slightly on his feet. “I believe Valiant landed a blow, sire.”

 

The elf saw nothing else as the world darkened, and he fell.

  
  


Emrys came around in his bed. He was laid on top of the sheets, shirt pulled open. The wound on his side hurt, but he ignored it as he looked around. Arthur and Gaius were talking in the corner, frowns on their faces.

 

“Why so serious?”

 

Arthur wheeled and dashed to the side of the bed. He reached out slightly as if to embrace his friend, but decided against it as he remembered the bandages. “Merlin, you’re awake! I was- I was so worried!”

 

“Why, you prat?” Emrys joked, “Good servants hard to come by these days?”

 

Arthur let out a strangled noise that seemed like halfway between a laugh and a sob. “You idiot! I thought I had lost you- right when I had finally gotten you.”

 

The elf reached out and brushed a hand down the side of his friend’s face. “You’re never getting rid of me, you clotpole.”

 

Gaius cleared his throat behind them, and Arthur sprung away from the bed. 

 

“Not that I don’t appreciate you two quitting your pining, but Merlin is currently injured and cannot participate in anything untoward for a while.” 

 

At the old man’s words, Emrys turned about as red as the tomatoes with which he was so well acquainted. Arthur wasn’t much better off. “Gaius! We haven’t-”

 

He waved his hand casually. “It’s none of my business  _ what _ you do once you’re healed, but for now, both of you will need to exhibit some restraint.”

 

Emrys squeezed his eyes shut.  _ When would the humiliation cease? _

 

_ Sedecim completum _


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! :)  
> Suggestion: Listen to King and Lionheart by Of Monsters and Men at some point. I really feel that it encapsulates how Merlin and Arthur feel about each other (not just in this story).

_ Hoc, somnium insolitum? _

_ In this, a strange dream? _

 

Arthur woke up slowly, but nearly jumped out of bed when he opened his eyes. The figure standing by his bed- that wasn’t Merlin! 

 

“Ah,” the figure said, unaffected. “Good morning, sire. King Emrys is waiting downstairs for you in the banquet hall.”

 

Arthur shook his head a few times to clear it. “What? Who the hell are you, and who is Emrys?”

 

“I fail to understand, sire. I’m George, your manservant, and King Emrys is your husband.”

 

Whatever sick game this was, Arthur decided to play along until he figured it out. He stood up, and allowed “George” to swing a robe over his shoulders.

 

“I’ll get dressed later. For now, I’m going to go have breakfast.”

 

George bowed and left.

  
  


Arthur walked down the halls of Camelot, noting the knights and servants that he didn’t recognize. Suddenly, Gweneviere appeared next to him, walking in step. 

 

“Good morning, King Arthur!” she said happily, “Are you prepared for the ceremony tomorrow?”

 

Gwen looked off- a little older than he remembered. Her hair was longer, too. And what did she mean, King Arthur?

 

“Ah- yes- of course I’m ready.”

 

She smiled and curtsied before leaving down another hallway. 

  
  


Pushing open the doors to the hall, Arthur was floored. The table was set for two, but at the second place setting was…

 

“Merlin!”

 

Merlin looked up at Arthur, and the prince noticed a couple of things almost immediately. He wore a silver diadem set with sapphires, and his hair was silky and shoulder-length, delicately braided. His clothes were nothing like Arthur had ever seen before, gauzy and crystalline blue, and his ears… 

 

Instead of sticking straight out from his head, they curved gently up, ending in sharp points. 

 

His features were just as angular as before, but his eyes seemed to hold more wisdom.

 

“Good morning, dear! How did you sleep?”

 

Arthur blinked a couple of times. “I slept fine, Merlin. How was your night?”

 

“Always good when I’m next to you. Please don’t call me Merlin, though; I hid behind that name for almost twenty years, I’m tired of it.”

 

He swung a hand towards the chair opposite him, and it slid out from under the table. Arthur, choosing not to freak out, took a seat. Now he knew this had to be a dream; Merlin couldn’t have magic!

 

They ate peacefully, making light conversation. Emrys was talking about the state of affairs in Ailonwyn; his new building projects were being well accepted, and the university’s construction was well on its way. They discussed the new knight recruits, reminiscing over the old days. They brainstormed a treaty to end the skirmishes with Mercia.

 

All the while, Arthur was deciding that he could get used to this slightly older, wiser, magical version of Merlin. Sorry- Emrys.

 

As he was thinking this, the elf caught his eye. “Don’t worry, this will come to pass sooner than you think.”

 

The world shimmered, and Arthur woke up. He had apparently fallen asleep in the hard chair he had pulled up next to Merlin's bedside. His eyes met those of his friend, who was laying on his side gazing at him. 

 

Arthur smiled back. "Your hair is hiding your eyes, Merlin. When was the last time you cut it?"

 

"Oh, uh, I'm actually growing it out!" The other chirped, tone light. 

 

However, this caused Arthur's mood to darken slightly. If Merlin was growing his hair out, that would mean that part of the dream was right- what about-

 

The prince blinked that idea away. Merlin was free to wear his hair longer, many people did. That didn't mean he was a magical royal elf named Emrys!

 

"...I think you'll look nice."

 

Merlin smiled widely at his reply, and Arthur's spirits rose again. How had his manservant come to mean so much to him in such a short period of time? His feelings had built so slowly, then had just exploded. He reached out a hand to caress one of his oh-so-prominent cheekbones. Merlin leant into his hand, resting a soft cheek against the prince's calloused palm. A blissful quiet settled over the two of them.

 

Merlin's quiet voice snapped him from his reverie. "Gaius says I'm free to leave today."

 

"So soon?" Arthur shouldn't be skeptical- Gaius was a professional- but what if he had made a bad call? "Are you sure?"

 

His manservant sighed and turned his face into the prince's hand, lightly kissing it. "I'm fine, Arthur."

 

"Well, if you're so well, would you like to come on a ride with me?"

 

A slight blush climbed Merlin's cheeks. "I don't think I'll be serviceable as your security today, I'm afraid…"

 

Arthur's hand now departed from the servant's face, now travelling up into the bed-mussed hair. "Oh, I think I can take care of myself well enough. I was thinking of a more romantic venture."

 

"O-oh- erm- I'd like that, Arthur."

 

_ Septdecim completum _

_ Seventeen complete _


	18. Q and A

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There have been quite a few questions about this fic, so I'm gonna post a few things before we continue.

Arthur is nicer in this fic than he is in the first season of Merlin- why?

I can't write mean characters. Flirtatious creeps? Yeah! Insane, revenge driven psychos? Hell yeah! Cruel, murderous, cold-blooded kings? Of course! 

Bullies are hard. 

Why does it take so long to update?

I believe in quality over frequency. The average chapter takes a few days and multiple drafts to write. I also have a lot of other work to do; I take five AP classes.

What do Emrys's ears look like when he has his prosthetics on?

They look just as they do in the show.

Will we get anymore chainmail Merlin?

This fic is pure self indulgence. Of course there'll be more chainmail Merlin!

Why's he still a servant if he's a knight?

He could quit, especially with his new salary, but he won't. As a servant, he can be around Arthur all the time. He wouldn't be able to as a knight; he'd have his own duties. There's no guarantee that a replacement servant wouldn't be an assassin sent to kill Arthur.

How old are they?

Arthur is about to come of age, and Emrys is about six months away. I'm taking on the Poisoned Chalice arc next, and there will be some obvious changes.

Will Morgana be evil in this?

How do I say this...

HELL NO I LOVE HER

Emrys is going to handle Morgana the way I think he should have. 

What ships are in this?

There's obviously Merthur, but I'm on the fence between Morgwen and Gwencalot. Pergwaine will also be a thing later. Please leave any opinions on Morgwen vs Gwencalot in the comments!

What are they to each other? Friends? Boyfriends?

Right now, they've almost got the Ineffable Husbands thing going on. They're in love but they just haven't acknowledged it out loud yet. They aren't together in the sense of the word but... they definitely are.

 

Remember everybody, I write for my own enjoyment. I put a lot of work and love into my stories, especially this one. If you have nothing nice to say, then don't say anything at all.


	19. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emrys really can't catch a break, can he?  
> Also, I don't know if this is obvious or not, but this story is third person limited. One person's emotions are known at any given time. You can typically find shifting viewpoints from how they think of others. Ex: Any time someone thinks of Merlin as Emrys, it's 99% likely that it's his POV. Think Sarah J Maas's POV use.

_ Hoc, iter faciunt per silva… et inveniunt viros insolitos. _

_ In this, they make a journey through the forest… and meet some strange men. _

 

Emrys let out another happy sigh as he breathed in the clear, clean air. As an elf, he really wasn’t a fan of extended stays inside. The world felt so much more alive out here, and so did he.

 

Arthur smiled over at him, pleased to see his friend so happy. “You seem quite glad to be out of the infirmary, Merlin. Was my company boring you?”

 

“Oh no, of course not! I just- I really love being out in the woods again.”

 

“Don’t take it so seriously, Merlin, I understand,” Arthur said, making sure he hadn’t actually worried the knight. “I so often feel trapped in that castle… Sometimes I worry I’ll go mad from restlessness. That’s why I go on so many hunts and patrols; they get me out.”

 

The mood didn’t remain solemn for long as Emrys suddenly got an idea in his head. He slowed his horse and began tying it to a tree as he talked. “Well, Mr. I Hunt And Patrol So Much, I bet you can’t catch  _ me _ !” Before Arthur could reply, the elf had turned his back and sprinted into the woods.

 

The prince shook his head, groaning. This was a terrible idea.

 

Nevertheless, he dismounted, tied his horse’s bridle to a nearby tree, and took off after his runaway partner.

  
  


Emrys’s feet never seemed to touch the ground. As he dashed through the underbrush, it hardly even occurred to him that he was making nary a noise. His breath didn’t even come fast- the very wind helped him run.

 

Arthur might be one of the best hunters in all of Camelot, but Emrys was an elf in nature. If he didn’t want to be caught, he wouldn’t be.

 

But what fun would that be?

 

He took a break to climb a tree and recline in the branches. Arthur arrived sooner than he had expected, and apparently decided to take some time to breathe before continuing the chase. As the prince leant against the trunk of the tree that was hosting Emrys, the elf decided to start whistling.

 

Arthur looked up and found him in the branches. Surprise flashed across his features. “Why you-”

 

Emrys didn’t give him a chance to continue- he lightly ran across his branch and jumped to the next tree. Arthur laughed and started to follow him on the ground as he leapt from that tree to the next.

 

“What are you Merlin, a squirrel?”

 

The elf laughed at the comment as he continued to transverse the branches. Arthur kept up, jogging on the ground next to his friend in the trees. The feeling of being out of the castle was now truly getting to him as well; his eyes were bright and shining with mirth. Emrys whooped at the top of his lungs and picked up the pace, now practically flying through the trees.

 

Until he was flying into open air. 

 

The elf screamed as his foot caught a small knot in the tree, and, his grace abandoning him, he slipped off of the branch. Arthur rushed forward, but wasn’t fast enough to catch him as he plummeted towards the Earth.  

 

Emrys’s skull cracked against a stone, and his vision went dark.

  
  


Gwaine had been having a decent enough day. They were only a few days out from Camelot, the weather was nice, and Percival had already agreed to make his incredible stew for dinner. Heartened by the bird song and peaceful forest, he began to sing a short drinking song as they rode.

 

“I had a little jackass, who just refused to work.

He wouldn’t pull his weight ‘cause he was such a lazy jerk.

He ran that road beneath him and he ran away to school

To be an arcanist; this donkey was a fool.

 

He’s jackass, jackass, running through the halls,

Distracting all the students ‘cause he’s playin’ with his books and

Ink and papers, papers all around the class

No you can’t be an arcanist when you’re such a stupid- WOAH!”

 

The ‘WOAH’ was not, in fact, part of the song, but rather a response to a somewhat dishevelled man in Camelot reds running into the road, another person in his arms. The group of four stopped their horses, and Lancelot dismounted. 

 

Lance approached carefully, hands in the air to show that he meant no harm. Something about the Camelot man told him that he could be prepared to fight in a second, nevermind the man in his arms. “What’s the matter, my good man?” 

 

“I am Prince Arthur of Camelot, and I-”

 

Gwaine laughed, “Yeah, and I’m King Cenred of Mercia!” He shut up, however, when Percival knocked his horse into Gwaine’s. It was then that the joker remembered that Percival had once performed for the royal family, back when he was in a travelling troupe.

 

Elyan had clearly remembered this too. “Well, Percival, is our friend truly the prince?”

 

The big man looked closely at the man on the road and nodded before bowing the best he could. “What help do you require, my lord?”

 

“My… friend fell from a tree and hit his head. We had ventured far from our horses, and I can’t find my way back to them. I fear for his life. If you do decide to assist me, the reward will be sizable, I can promise that.” Though he was composed, the prince’s eyes were full of unexpressed panic. 

 

Lancelot didn’t even bother consulting his friends before replying. “We wouldn’t be men if we allowed your friend to die, reward or not. Here.” He opened his arms and allowed the prince to pass the comatose man into them. Now that the swordsman could see him closer, it was clear that the prince’s friend was hardly more than a boy. He was gangly and sharp boned, far lighter than someone of his height should be. His shaggy dark hair was matted with blood, and hung strangely around his abnormally large, protruding ears.  However, there was something about the boy that made him interesting. 

 

He carefully carried the boy to his horse, where he gingerly laid him across his saddle. “If you please, sire, you may ride with him, and I shall ride with one of my companions.”

 

“Thank you,” the prince said, swinging himself onto the horse with the ease of an experienced rider. He moved his friend’s body so that the boy would lie over his lap where he could not fall off. Lancelot thought he heard the man whisper something, but decided not to mention it. Instead, he mounted Elyan’s mare and settled himself behind his friend. 

 

They set off slowly, the prince in the lead next to Lancelot and Elyan, with Percival and Gwaine following behind. The ride was silent for a while, but prince suddenly broke it. 

 

“You all know me, but I am at a disadvantage. May I inquire as to the names of my new companions?”

 

“Of course, my lord,” Lance replied, trying to match the royal’s formal tones. “I am Lancelot.”

 

Elyan in front of him continued. “I am Elyan.”

 

“Gwaine.” 

 

“Percival.” 

 

“You must excuse these two for their shortness, my lord,” Elyan began. “Percival is a man of few words, and Gwaine doesn’t take well to nobility.”

 

They all chuckled; that was the understatement of the year.

 

“Why do you travel to Camelot?” The prince’s tone wasn’t prying or threatening, and the group found themselves put more at ease. 

 

“We seek the knighthood,” Lancelot began. “We are four of the most accomplished swordsmen in the land, but we desire to serve king and country.”

 

Arthur smiled, looking affectionately down at the figure sprawled across his lap. “That sounds like something this one would say.”

 

The others glanced over at him, and Gwaine voiced the question they all held. “Whaddya mean?”

 

“Merlin’s got the same kind of dedication, though sometimes I think he only has it for me. I met him about a year ago, and he’s already saved my life thrice. He’s one of the best knights I have.” The prince’s tone was suddenly a lot softer, more caring. He lightly brushed his hand through his friend’s hair.

 

Gwaine chuckled a little. “He’s a knight? No offense, my lord, but he looks like a servant.” Percival gave him a sharp look and bumped their horses again.

 

“That’s because he is one,” Arthur replied, turning around to meet the joker’s eyes. “He was my servant the first time he saved my life, and that inspired me to train him to become a knight. Goddess knows why he insists on remaining my manservant.” He suddenly wheeled his horse and trotted off down a side trail, the others following. “I recognize this place.”

 

They rode a while further, and soon heard a whinny. A few moments later, they arrived in the small clearing where the prince and his companion had left their horses. Arthur dismounted and ran to his mount, rifling around in the saddlebag until he emerged victorious with a roll of bandages.

 

“Merlin was recently stabbed during a fight- one that he saved my life in, I might add. I had bandages with me just in case.”

 

The group of four dismounted and watched quietly as the prince almost lovingly washed the blood out of his knight’s hair with water from his canteen and carefully bandaged the boy’s head. When he finished, he pressed a kiss to his friend’s temple, not minding his shocked audience. 

 

“Now,” he said, standing and looking at the sky. “It’s too dark to attempt to return to Camelot right now, what say you for making camp here?”

 

The swordsmen agreed readily, and the group worked alongside the prince preparing camp.

 

Percival  _ had  _ promised to make stew, after all.

  
  


“Rise and shine!”

 

Arthur’s eyes flew open at the familiar voice, and he shot up in bed. “Merlin!” 

 

The knight smiled to him, standing up from the crouch he’d had above his prince. “What happened yesterday? All I remember is the chase, climbing that tree, then the fall-”

 

He was cut off by a searing kiss. Arthur’s hands were in his hair, grazing around the bandages, and Merlin lifted his hands to caress the prince’s neck. They continued on like that for several minutes, only breaking apart when a wolf-whistle sounded over the campsite. 

 

“Hey come on Arthur, there’s no need to stop on my behalf!” Gwaine cackled. “Keep at it, lads!”

 

Worry crossed Merlin’s features; he was no doubt wondering what Arthur would do, being talked to like that. Surprise followed a moment later when the prince laughed loudly. “I didn’t know you enjoyed watching, Gwaine!”

 

Arthur had gotten to know their four companions over a few cups of wine and a pot of fantastic stew the night before, and he had learnt that Gwaine, for all his teasing, hadn’t a malicious bone in his body. In fact, none of the group did. They were great men, and he could certainly appreciate having them as both knights and friends. 

 

"Nah, not the two of you. I prefer my men a bit more bulky." The noise of Percival choking on his oatmeal could be heard over by one of the trees.

 

Arthur snorted and kissed Merlin once more on the cheek before standing up. "Gentlemen, this is my dear friend, Merlin."

 

Lancelot snickered from where he'd been sitting, sharpening his knife. "A bit more than that, if that display was to be believed."

 

As he helped his injured friend up, the prince chuckled at Merlin's tomato-red face. "You blush remarkably easily, you clotpole."

 

"Hey! That's my word!"

 

Arthur kissed him again, stopping any complaints. "Anyway, these are my friends. I met them yesterday when I was carrying your passed-out arse through the woods. The big guy is Percival, sleeping guy's Elyan, Lancelot has the sword, and the one with hair to rival a princess is Gwaine." 

 

Gwaine took affront to his description. "I'm no princess, Arthur- that's you!" 

The resulting laughter woke Elyan, who introduced himself more in full. This time, however, he added a bit more information. "I was raised a blacksmith, which is where I learnt my way around a sword. My sister and father still live in Camelot."

 

"What are their names?" Arthur asked. "The royal family sponsors a great many blacksmiths; I may know your father."

 

"My father is Tom of the lower village. My sister, Gweneviere, works at the-"

 

Merlin cut him off with an excited gasp. "Gwen?! Your sister is Gwen?"

 

"Yes- you know her?"

 

"Of course I do! She and I work together often; she's one of my dearest friends." Merlin was practically glowing when he talked to Elyan, and Arthur was shocked to find himself not the slightest bit jealous. He trusted these men already.

 

As Merlin continued to catch Elyan up on how his sister fared, Arthur crossed the clearing to join Percival, Gwaine, and Lancelot. "They'll be at it for a while… Merlin chatters more than the most gossipy court lady."

 

"You don't mind that, though," Gwaine teased, elbowing the prince lightly in the ribs. 

 

"You know, I still am the prince. I could have you beheaded for that." Arthur made it perfectly clear that he was joking with a like-minded elbow. He then sobered up and turned around. "Merlin, come over here, would you? Bring Elyan!"

 

The two walked over and joined them in their little sitting circle. The four men, noticing the change in mood, looked slightly apprehensive.

 

Arthur sat forward and held the eyes of each man in turn. "I promised you four a reward for your help to myself and my knight. However, you may find this gift more a punishment than a reward."

 

The swordsmen truly looked nervous now. Gwaine leaned into Percival a little bit; Lancelot's hands gripped his knees; Elyan was turning slightly pale.

 

"I want to make you four Friends of Camelot. Following that, should you wish, you can pursue your knighthood."

 

His words sank in, and the clearing erupted into whoops and hollers. Percival slapped Arthur on the back, so hard that the prince almost fell forwards. Gwaine began to laugh maniacally. Lancelot and Elyan, who had both kept their heads for the most part, shook Arthur's hand before cheering at the top of their lungs.

 

Merlin giggled at the chaos, running a hand down the prince's arm. "You'd think you'd just offered them the kingdom."

 

Arthur smiled proudly. "The four of them deserve it."

 

Unfortunately for the partiers, their noise had attracted some unwanted attention.

 

_ Octodecim completum _

_ Eighteen complete _


	20. I'm Resuming!

Hey guys! It's me, Aidra. I know it's been a while, and gods know I wish it hadn't been. 

I've been swamped under an average of 5-7 hours of homework a day, so time has not been on my side when it's come to this fic. However, I'm getting more accustomed to my workload.

In other words, guess what's going to start updating again (possibly even with something of a schedule)?

 

 

**Warning: You may want to go back and refresh yourself soon because I'm planning on going through and editing this.**

I'm also retconning the last chapter, keeping the general plot but changing a few things.

 

 

May the Three Faced Goddess smile upon you,

Aidra


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